


Five Nights at Freddy's: Sins of The Past

by The_L0ne_Stag



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: 1980s, 1990s, 80's Music, 90's Music, Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Fluff, Five Nights at Freddy's 1, Gen, Hospitalization, Killer Animatronics (Five Nights at Freddy's), Mild Gore, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Paranormal, Possessed Animatronics (Five Nights at Freddy's), Recreational Drug Use, Sentient Animatronics (Five Nights at Freddy's)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_L0ne_Stag/pseuds/The_L0ne_Stag
Summary: Mike Schmidt has worked for Freddy Fazbear's Pizza for a little over a month now, the longest of which the likes of anyone in his position has ever worked before. However, one early December morning, the night watchman receives a surprise phone call from his older sister in Connecticut.His niece is coming to spend her 10th birthday with him at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza!With the accidental discovery of the Fazbear animatronics' horrible secrets, does Mike have what it takes to free the trapped souls and give his niece the best birthday ever?
Relationships: Mike Schmidt (Five Nights at Freddy's)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	1. Prologue

March 3rd, 1987 / 2:30 AM

"Who's watching  
Tell me who's watching  
Who's watching me  
I'm just an average man with an average life  
I work from 9 to 5, hey hell, I pay the price  
All I want is to be left alone, in my average home  
But why do I always feel  
Like I'm in the Twilight Zone?"

The young security guard flicked on his flashlight with a rather bored expression, bobbing his head along to the beat pumping into his ears through the flimsy-looking Walkman headset he wore as he strode through the darkened hallways of the childrens' restaurant. His shoulder-length blonde hair was tied back in a man's ponytail and his portable Walkman cassette player stuffed into his back pocket.

"I always feel like somebody's watchin' me  
And I have no privacy  
I always feel like somebody's watchin' me  
Is it just a dream?"

The young man's stubbled chin moved up and down as he chewed a singular piece of bubble gum, shining the light out into the dark room, running the lone beam of light along the circumference of the room ahead of him. Stuffing his left hand into its respective pocket, he proceeded to stroll through the Show Stage area, gripping the flashlight in his right. His green eyes darted over towards the bright, colorful animatronic animals that stood static on the stage with the beam of bright light reflecting off of their shiny, plastic exoskeletons. A brown bear, a yellow chicken, and a sky-blue bunny.

"When I come home at night  
I bang the door real tight  
People call me on the phone I'm trying to avoid  
Or can the people on TV see me,  
Or am I just paranoid?  
When I'm in the shower,  
I'm afraid to wash my hair  
Cause I might open my eyes and find someone standing there!"

Pausing in front of the Show Stage, the night watchman tilted his flashlight upward, peering at the animatronics' oddly sinister cartoonish facial expressions. The big, goofy smile of the humorously-proportioned Freddy Fazbear came off as a bit unsettling. The round, green eyes of the normally friendly Bonnie 'The Rockin' Bunny' practically pierced the soul of anyone brave enough to return the rabbit's gaze. The bubbly and somewhat sassy personality of Chica the Chicken meant nothing as she stood there in complete silence and stillness, like a soulless shell of her daytime personality. However, it was then when the young guard caught the movement of...something, in his peripheral vision.  
Immediately, he turned the flashlight towards the now empty hallway entrance, fully expecting to catch a thief or some punk kid coming in to screw things up. It would certainly spice things up a bit. After all, it was his first night on the job and, so far? Nothing interesting has happened. At all.

"People say I'm crazy, just a little touch  
But maybe showers remind me of Psycho too much  
That's why...  
I always feel like somebody's watchin' me  
And I have no privacy  
I always feel like somebody's watchin' me  
Who's playing tricks on me?"

The security guard followed in the direction of what his eyes believed to be movement.  
The flashlight shone along the black and white checkered tile floor, swearing when all of a sudden, his hip smashed against the corner of one of the party tables.  
"Shit!" He hissed, instinctively removing his pocketed left hand to rub the sore area as he continued, entering the dark hallway. At the end of the hallway was the door leading to the 'Parts & Service' room. The young guard sighed, realizing that nothing (or nobody) was there, or so he thought.

"I don't know anymore!  
Are the neighbours watching me?  
Who's watching  
Well is the mailman watching me?  
Tell me who's watching  
And I don't feel safe anymore, oh what a mess  
I wonder who's watching me now  
Who?  
The IRS?!"

The young night watchman had failed to spot the golden eyes that spied on him from the shadows of the slightly parted door of the 'Parts & Service'' room. Narrow jaws filled with sharp, dusty, yellowing teeth parted as the rusty, old animatronic slowly raised it's hook hand to lightly push on the door, pausing when it creaked. Thankfully, the security guard hadn't heard. Watching as the young man rounded the corner, the animatronic slowly pushed its way out of the room. It's ripped and torn red felt covering had jagged holes, and various parts of the robot's endoskeleton were showing. The synthetic felt covering on the left ear was gone completely, exposing the metal. The animatronic fox, known as "Foxy", followed the guard as if stalking him.

"I always feel like somebody's watchin' me  
And I have no privacy  
I always feel like somebody's watchin' me  
Tell me is it just a dream?"

As the guard was making his way back to his office, the flashlight began flickering on and off...on and off...on and off, before finally dying; having completely run out of power. The security guard uttered a quiet "Son of a bitch" as he gave the flashlight a couple of swift knocks to the palm of his hand with an added shake for good measure, though nothing happened. Rolling his eyes, the youthful watchman knew that he would have to find his way back to his office in darkness. "Great," he muttered pessimistically, "juuust great."  
Removing his headphones, he allowed the Walkman headpiece to hang loosely around his neck as he began the trek back to his office, not even bothering to pause the song.

"I always feel like somebody's watchin' me  
And I have no privacy  
I always feel like somebody's watchin' me  
Who's playing tricks on me?"

Having almost arrived at his office, a loud "Clank! Clank! Clank! Clank!" was heard rapidly approaching him from behind, down the hall. Turning around, the young man barely had any time to react to his assailant. With wide, frightened eyes, he screamed a blood-curdling shriek that was almost as loud as the one his attacker had generated.  
The last thing he saw before everything went white was the gaping jaws of the old, tattered animatronic fox from the 'Parts & Service' room hurtling towards him.

"I always feel like somebody's watchin' me  
Oooh, whoa-oa-oa  
I always feel like somebody's watchin' me  
Tell me, can it be?  
I always feel like somebody's watching me"

((The song "Somebody's Watching Me" was written and produced by Rockwell (1984) and FNaF belongs to Scott Cawthon. I claim only my original characters and the plot of this fan fiction, but nothing else. All brands used in this fic belong to their respective owners.))


	2. Ch. 1: Work As Usual

(Present Day: December 18th, 1992)

"SLAM!"

The heavy aluminum door to the left of the cramped office swiftly slid shut as a balled-up fist practically punched the poor red button, and just seconds later, the animatronic outside of the tiny office space clawed and punched at the door. Slamming itself into the sturdy door over and over again, the animatronic in question, a raggedy old pirate fox slinked away, realizing the futility of its actions as it returned to the defunct 'Pirate's Cove', a little stage area separate from the Show Stage where those three other hellish robots stay.  
The man responsible for shutting the heavy door just before the pirate fox got in is a man by the name of Mike Schmidt. The man was still rather youthful in appearance, only being twenty seven years old. However, he wouldn't necessarily be considered attractive. With sunken blue-grey eyes accompanied by dark bags underneath, his cheek bones were somewhat prominent, and he also had a mop of rather plain, (usually wavy) chestnut-brown hair that grew down to his shoulders; tied back in a men's ponytail, and pallid white skin. He was tall, lanky, and scrawny, with his flesh seemingly sticking to his small skeletal frame. He was as muscular as your average high school nerd. Dark brown beard stubble was apparent on his chin, and he had sideburns as well.

"Damn it, Foxy! I'm not in the mood for your shit!"  
The lone man yelled through the plexiglass windows as the fox went away.  
Exhaling a shaky sigh, the security guard waited just a few extra seconds before raising the door once again, flopping back in his beat-up swivel chair. "Tch. Stupid fox." He grumbled, "About damn near gave me a heart attack…" reaching out with his right hand to grab his hot cup of 7-11 coffee, the clunky IBM ThinkPad 300 laptop sat in his lap as he clicked through the various security feeds throughout the establishment.  
Mike had been working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, 'A magical place for kids and grown-up's alike', for a little over a month now, having started back in November.  
If he was being honest, he hated it. He hated his job. He hated the pizzeria. He hated the four (ok, technically five if we're counting...Him) animatronics. And he especially hated the meager paycheck he received every Thursday. He risked life and limb coming here every night! (What does management not understand?! Is it too hard to give a guy a raise?!)  
But worst of all? He hated the fact that he couldn't leave. It wasn't like he didn't want to leave, oh, he did! But nobody else was hiring in the small, rural town of Hurricane, Utah. Of course.  
He hated this job like nothing else, but it put food on the table and kept a roof over his head. So, Mike just had to suck it up until something better came along. Which, hopefully, would be soon; as the restaurant was set to close by the end of the year. (Health Department concerns, y'know?)  
Something needed to come along, and quick, if Mike required a steady flow of income. Lest he be out of a job and without money to pay the bills.

Pausing mid-sip of his coffee, Mike stared down at the screen. On CAM 1A, Freddy Fazbear, a brown bear animatronic adorned with a classy black top hat and matching bowtie, was staring directly into the camera with two completely black eyes with nothing more than pinprick white pupils in each. Setting his coffee aside, Mike ran a hand over his face, raising a brow when he noticed that the cuddly killer had returned to his normal position.  
Sighing, Mike continued flipping through the security camera feeds. The lack of a regular circadian rhythm, he believed, must be getting to him. Chica, a yellow chicken animatronic with an orange beak and feet with magenta eyes, wearing only a bib that says 'Let's Eat!', was in the kitchen, as made apparent by the racket she caused whenever she was in there. Bonnie, the bluish-purple guitar-playing animatronic rabbit with a dapper red bowtie, was roaming aimlessly about the Dining Area in CAM 1B.  
'Weird.' Mike thought silently to himself, 'I wonder what's gotten into these fuzzy bastards.' The animatronics were deviating from their usual nighttime routines, and they have been for the last few nights he's been there that month. For example, Bonnie has recently gotten later and later when it comes to activating, and whenever he does, the rabbit now tends to lollygag wherever rather than head straight to the office like he usually did, not that Mike minded. If anything, this was a positive change in the security guard's opinion. The less he was being bothered by those awful rust buckets, the better.

85% Power.

The bottom left of the laptop screen displayed. It was 1 AM. Closing the monitor, Mike stretched, clasping a hand over his mouth as a yawn worked its way up his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, the night watchman froze at what sounded like eerie, distant circus-esque music coming from, well, somewhere in the restaurant. Mike Schmidt didn't know, and he certainly didn't care. After the music died down, the only noise heard was the low, steady humming of the little fan sitting on his desk. To most, the dull, near-silence of the graveyard shift would drive one crazy. However, Mike didn't really mind. The quiet felt nice. Serene, even. No animatronics to bother him.  
Hopefully, tonight's shift would be an easy one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5 AM.

Mike had long since finished his coffee and, thankfully, no more Foxy attacks occurred. Chica had stopped by for a particularly long visit outside of his right office window, staring at him with her toothy beak wide open (Gallus gallus domesticus anatomy be damned!)  
He could have sworn he had heard the unusual, creepy, raspy groan that the chicken animatronic sometimes emitted from outside of his door. The noise always sent a shiver down Mike's spine.  
Upon Chica's departure from her location right outside of his office, Mike had flicked on the right hallway light a couple of times to make sure she had left before letting up on the right door.  
"Thank God." He muttered, exhaling a sigh of relief that he had no idea he was even holding. He checked the remaining amount of power he had at his disposal,

51% Power.

Smiling, Mike knew that he would be safe. 51% could hold him over for a couple of more hours, though, he was glad that his shift was almost over.  
Just a few more moments and-  
"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!  
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!  
BEEP! BEEP! BEE-"  
Mike pressed the dismissal button on the electronic Casio watch located on his right wrist, silencing the electronic beeps.  
6 AM had arrived, he survived, and now? He gets to go home, eat dinner (or, was it technically breakfast?), go to sleep, and repeat.

Work as usual.

Standing up from his sitting position, Mike had grabbed the heavy brown men's jacket he wore, slipping his arms in before zipping it up.  
Grabbing his empty paper coffee cup, he sat the laptop down on the desk before walking out of his office and down the West Hall leading out to the main Dining Area, the keys to the building's front entrance jingling audibly with every step he took. The soft "tap, tap, tap" of his glossy black uniform shoes echoed softly through the hallway.  
Passing Pirate's Cove, Mike paused directly in front of the side stage. For a few moments, he pondered the possibility of what may lie behind the stage. Would Foxy leap out and attack? Would he even be there at all? Mike reached out with his right hand and grabbed the starry purple curtain. It felt thick and heavy, though was soft to the touch. However, he paused once more, chewing on his lip out of nervous habit, chipped right tooth digging into the skin of his light pink bottom lip.  
Ultimately deciding against taking a peep, Mike shook his head and sighed, continuing his trek around party tables to the front entrance to the establishment, avoiding eye contact with any and all of the animatronics on stage. He couldn't look at them directly, and his stomach was doing aerial acrobatics just by passing those three awful machines; those bright, colorful, yet deceitful demons, that stood on the stage. Poised and ready for their daily performance.

However, Mike had failed to notice the sapphire-blue eyes of Freddy Fazbear tracking his movements as he passed the stage. The bear made no other movement.

Fiddling with the keys, Mike's hands were shaking ever so lightly. Oh, how he wanted out of this dreadful place already! The young man had never once thought that he'd miss his dump-of-a-home before taking the job of night watchman at Freddy's. Right now, he was itching for a bowl of instant beef-flavored ramen noodles and a nice cigarette.  
Having unlocked the two front doors after what felt like an eternity, Mike hooked the keys back onto his belt loop and pushed open one of two heavy doors comprising the front entrance of the family-friendly restaurant, being greeted by a gust of chilled wind to his face, stinging his eyes as it whipped around a few stray brunette hairs.  
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he withdrew a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter.  
Plucking a single cigarette from it's box, he flipped the lid shut and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket and stuck the mouthpiece of the cigarette into his mouth; holding it between his lips. Creating a shield with his now free hand to block out the wind, Mike lit the orange lighter, lighting the death stick's other end and placed the lighter back into the same pocket as his cigarettes.  
Taking a deep inhale, the night watchman felt the calming effects of the nicotine wash over his being before exhaling a plume of grey-white smoke. Leaning against the plain, off-white wall of the outside of the building, Mike stared up at the remaining stars twinkling high in the sky as the very first few rays of morning light peeked out behind the clouds, painting the sky a beautiful pinkish-orange color. It was still relatively dark outside, and Mike turned his head back to normal when he saw a car pull in. A blue Ford Taurus, 1985 model, headlights momentarily blinding him and forcing him to squint, as it pulled in through the main road only to turn and park. It was the second car in the parking lot (with the other being his own little crappy Toyota Corolla Levin, a 1983 model. It was falling apart at the seams, but it at least got him places.)

After having been turned off, out stepped a youthful-looking woman in a Fazbear waitress uniform. She was shorter than he was, but was slender in appearance. She had a round face and kindly brown eyes the color of dark chocolate. Her hair was of a strawberry blonde color that grew a little past her shoulders, and her uniform consisted of a purple shirt whose sleeves ended at the elbows and a day shift badge with black pants, glossy black shoes (much like Mike's own pair).  
Shutting the door, the day shift employee had locked her vehicle and made her way from her car, across the parking lot, and up onto the concrete platform, passing Mike with her usual friendly smile and a quick "Good morning" as she made her way inside. Of course, the security guard always returned with either a smile, a quick wave or a nod, sometimes even a "Morning" if he was feeling more talkative.  
This particular woman was always the first of the day shift crew to arrive at the restaurant (even before the manager) and she always made it a point to say "hello" to the night watchman, who had made it routine to smoke after every shift to calm his nerves and to quench his cravings for the moment.  
Mike would be lying if he said that he didn't have a crush on the woman. However, Mr. Schmidt was not what one would call a 'conversation-starter', let alone a 'conversation-starter-around-women'. He would often dwell on flirtatious quips or one-liners to use on this particular fellow employee, though he would always chicken out at the last second and settle for his usual curt responses whenever she approached. The woman always radiated a sense of peppiness and a genuine love for what she did that Mike could only envy. He wanted to be happy with his job. It would make going to work less like going to 'work'. It would be pleasant. Maybe even enjoyable!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having pulled into his house's driveway, Mike shut off his car and exited the vehicle. Locking it up, he entered his house.  
"ARF! ARF! ARF!" came the sudden, loud barking of his male Labernard, of whom he had named 'Chuckles'.  
"Hey Chuck! C'mon boy! Show me some love, will ya?" Mike laughed as his large mutt lovingly tackled him, though, accidentally nailed the man where the sun doesn't shine with one of his comically large, light brown paws. "OW-! Ok! Ok! Too much love! Down! Down, down, down!" Mike ordered, crouching to rub and scratch the affectionate dog on the head and behind his floppy Labrador-esque ears.  
"Yeah, you miss me when I'm not home, don't ya? Yeah, you do." Mike grinned, pulling the dog into a hug. "Well, I miss you too, buddy." The man gave Chuckles a few pats to the head before getting up to walk to his kitchen.

Mike's house wasn't anything fancy. In fact, it was honestly a bit run-down from age and definitely dated. Built in or around 1961, it had Terrazzo flooring in the kitchen, bath, and living rooms, with shag carpeting in both bedrooms. Leaky wood paneling made up the walls and a popcorn ceiling was apparent throughout the entirety of the house (with a lone leaky spot in the kitchen, which, of course, was where a plastic bucket sat. Nonetheless.)  
The outside used to be a pale baby-blue with white shutters around the windows, with black (and the occasionally missing) shingles on the rooftop, but the exterior was in dire need of a thorough pressure washing and a new paint job, what with all of the cracking and peeling and faded coloration in general concerning the paint. The front and back yards were in serious need of a good lawn mowing, weed-eating, and weed removal, and the house was thoroughly chewed up by termites inside and out.  
In other words, it was a kind of shitty old house. Ok, it was a very shitty old house.  
However, it was cheap, and Mike Schmidt isn't the richest man on Earth.  
Thankfully, it was located in a decent neighborhood and crime was already low in Hurricane to begin with. Luckily, he didn't have to worry about an armed robbery anytime soon.

Opening his pantry, the man sighed, disheartened from the near-emptiness. All that was there was a half-eaten box of Wheat Squares cereal, two cups of instant beef-flavored ramen, and some bags of microwave popcorn and a box of plain bagels.  
Interrupted by the low growl of his own stomach, Mike reached in and grabbed a cup of instant beef-flavored ramen, peeling off the red lid before adding some tap water and placing it in the microwave for one minute and thirty seconds.  
While he waited, Mike flinched when his wall-mounted telephone rang loud and clear.  
Walking over, the young man picked up the phone.  
"Mike Schmidt speaking-"

"-Oh my gosh! You actually picked up! Mikey, it's been so long since we've last talked! Are you alright? Your voice sounds rough."  
A bubbly young woman's voice sounded from the other end of the line.  
Mike's eyes widened and he nearly dropped the phone in shock,  
"O-Oh my God…Molly?! Is that actually you?" Mike replied, sounding just as shocked as the woman.  
"I should be asking you the same, sis! Are you alright? Did something happen?" He asked her nervously. Mike hadn't remembered when he had last spoken to his thirty one year old sister. It wasn't because of a 'falling-out' or anything like that, but rather, the Schmidt siblings had just lost touch over the years due to their separate and terribly busy and stressful lives. With Molly working as a cardiologist and Mike as a security guard, the two rarely ever had time to talk to each other.  
"Well duh, little brother! Of course it's Molly! And, uh, no. Nothing happened to either myself, Dereck, or Alexandra. BUT," she continued, "Alexandra's tenth birthday is coming up in a week. And she wanted me to ask if she could spend some of her Christmas break with only 'The Coolest Uncle Ever' because of his new job at Freddy's!"  
Molly explained before clearing her throat, "Uh, that is alright with you, yeah? I kind of told her about the new job you got, and she got all excited. And, uh, oh, Mike, there isn't a Freddy's anywhere here in Connecticut! Derek thinks that it's just an 'Out West' franchise and she's been dying to go back ever since her eighth birthday that we all threw her out there a couple of years back. Heh. She still has that Chica plush that you got for her using the tickets you won at the Mortal Kombat arcade machine." Molly hastily explained before sighing,  
"Listen, I'm really sorry for springing this onto you at the last minute. I really am! It's just...she was looking forward to this, but I know you work nights and I know that it will be weird, I mean, leaving her alone at night at your house by herself-"

"-Hey, hey, relax, Sis. It's fine. She can come over." Mike gently interrupted, taking a seat at his little round dining room table of which was located next to the wall-mounted telephone, twirling the curly cable wire that connected both phone and base around his index finger.  
"Uh, Dereck knows about this, too, right?" Mike asked. Dereck, Molly's husband and Mike's brother-in-law, worked as a defense attorney for some big shot law firm in Connecticut. Of course, Mike forgot the name of Dereck's law firm. Not that he really cared, of course. Dereck was a jerk. Always has been and always will be, at least, that's what Mike had always thought. The two men had always butt-heads over everything and neither one liked the other. The only person (well, people) that kept both men from fighting was both Molly and Alexandra.  
"Yeah. I managed to convince him, buuut he's still a little iffy on the whole idea." Molly replied. "All right. Do you know when you'll be over?" Mike asked, popping open the microwave door when his noodles were finished.

"Dereck bought plane tickets for Saturday. I hope that's fine with you."  
Molly replied. Mike could practically hear the smile in his older sister's voice.  
He could tell that his sister was looking forward to this for some time.  
"Yeah! That's great. I'll pick her up at St. George Airport when you three arrive." The man replied, dipping his fork into the steaming bowl of beef-flavored, high-sodium goodness. Twirling the fork around, Mike lifted the bundle of slippery, steaming noodles and blew on them a few times before shoveling the food into his mouth.  
"Ahl thee you thoon, then."  
Mike spoke through a mouth full of ramen. "All right. Bye, Mikey!" Molly laughed from the other side before hanging up on her end of the line with a soft "click". Doing the same, the tired security guard turned his gaze to Chuckles.  
The Labernard raised his head from his paws to meet his owner's gaze. Mike gave his dog a tired sigh after swallowing the ramen in his mouth.

"What did I get myself into, Chuck?"


	3. Ch. 2: Leaving For Hurricane

"Are we there yet, Mom?"

Piped up the small voice of nine year old Alexandra Carter from her cramped window seat on the commercial airliner.  
The girl and her parents had been on the jet flying towards St. George Regional Airport for what felt like hours now. "Cupcake," Dereck spoke up, looking down at his little girl, "we will get there when we get there. That's the third time you've asked that same question. No more for the rest of this trip."  
"But Daddy! It's so boring looking down at nothing but clouds." She complained, hugging her Chica plush that sat in her lap.  
Molly smiled, looking at Alexandra with gentle green eyes.  
"Dereck, she's only nine-"

"-Turning ten in a few days!"  
Alexandra interrupted.

"-Turning ten in a few days. Regardless, she's still just a kid. And kids get bored easily in situations like this. You know that!" Molly spoke up in defense of their daughter's statement. "However, your father is right, Alexandra. Repeating the same question over and over will not make this flight go by any faster."  
Alexandra huffed, leaning her cheek on her left hand, staring outside of the tiny round window, looking up at the clear blue atmosphere. "Ok, fine. But stop calling me Alexandra! It's too...blegh! Just call me Alex."

"Cupcake, 'Alex' is a boy's na-"  
Dereck went to speak up but was silenced with a look from Molly.  
Shutting his mouth, Dereck went back to browsing through some sports magazine that came from the netted backside of the seat in front of him. The three sat in silence for several more moments before Molly suddenly got an idea.  
Reaching into her white leather purse, the young woman grabbed a notebook and pen. Reaching over to Alexandra's seat, she pulled down the little tray attached to the backside of the seat in front of her and sat both objects down on the tray in front of her.  
"Ok sweetie. I know it's nothing much, but, maybe you could draw your Uncle Mike something? Maybe a picture of Freddy Fazbear? Or Bonnie the Bunny?" Molly suggested.  
"Cupcake, no. You're getting too old for that crap. Draw him a...heck, I dunno. A...giraffe or something."  
"Dereck!"  
Molly snapped, giving her husband a glare. "What is it with you? You always get like this whenever we go to visit my little brother." She huffed, raising a brow, "Any reason in particular you'd care to share?"  
Dereck only rolled his eyes in return with a snicker thrown in for good measure.  
"Tch. That brother of yours is such a deadbeat! You've seen that wreck he calls a 'house', dear. The last time we went to Freddy's and stayed at his house, he had a roach infestation!"

"Oh, come on! That was well over two years ago, Dereck! Cut Mikey some slack. He's trying! He quit that part-time job at the gas station and got that new one at-"

"-Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. I know-"

"-As a full-time night watchman!"  
Molly added proudly, smiling victoriously at her husband. Dereck, however, simply retorted in a snide manner, "He's still a deadbeat, hun. He can't afford any decent housing, he can barely keep his electric and water bills on, he can barely afford bread. BREAD, for Pete's sake, Molly! Bread!  
Not to mention, the man's just, uh, well, pathetic, overall. A night watchman? Molly, the guy struggles to lift a gallon of milk. I doubt that an armed criminal would shake in his boots at the sight of that twig." He snickered, "Besides that, the poor guy looks like he's seen ghosts one too many times."  
"Hey! That's my little brother you're talking about, Dereck! Lay off." Molly sighed,  
"As Mike's older sister, I swore on my Sistercratic Oath to defend him from the moment he was born! So, I won't be hearing your clearly biased and unfair criticisms of my little brother."  
"Sister...cratic Oath-?"  
Dereck repeated, looking up from his sports magazine at his oddball-for-a-wife, confused, before the PA system crackled to life over the speakers.  
"We will be landing at St. George Regional Airport in thirty minutes. Thank you for flying with Kitty In The Cloud Airlines!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike sat down on a bench inside of St. George Regional Airport, a coffee gripped in his hands as he waited patiently for his older sister and her family to arrive. While the man was looking forward to spending some quality time with his niece, he was pondering how he could possibly make this work.  
He worked the night shift at the establishment, and Alexandra was only nine (though was turning ten in a few days). Now, the small town of Hurricane was relatively crime-free, so he wouldn't have to worry about any breaks-ins while he was away at work. But on the other hand? She's still just a kid. A child. Who, in their right mind, would EVER trust a child (much less, a child who was just barely entering the double digits) to fend for themselves? Mike sighed, shaking his head, he couldn't do that! That sounded like borderline child abuse, and the man did NOT want to do such a thing to his own niece. Then again, what other choices did he have? Taking Alexandra to work with him was already ruled out. There was no way in HELL that he'd EVER do that! It was far too dangerous, especially with those...animatronics.

Mike shuddered at the thought of his sweet little niece being mercilessly stuffed into a Freddy Fazbear suit, his stomach twisting uncomfortably when the Phone Guy's message replayed in his head,

"Uh, now concerning your safety, the only real risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours probably won't recognize you as a person. They'll p-most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to...forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit. Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices, especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort...and death."

Forcing himself to take a sip of his coffee, Mike groaned quietly, gripping the edge of the bench. No. He was NOT taking Alexandra to work with him.  
He was faced with two choices, neither of which he particularly liked, but one was far less risky than the other.  
Setting his coffee aside on a table, Mike watched as other people walked past him, going to and fro, carrying their rolling suitcases and other luggage items and carry-ons with them. The airport PA system dinged and announced something, though Mike could barely make out what the automated woman's voice was saying.  
The smell of the nearby concession areas wafted through the air, and the young man was tempted to go purchase a toasted turkey club sandwich with some lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise slathered on thick.  
However, just as he stood up to walk over to the sandwich concession stand, he paused at the sound of a voice suddenly yell out,

"UNCLE MIKEY!!"

Turning around on his heels, the night watchman was nearly toppled as a certain nine-turning-ten-year-old tackled him in a hug; throwing her arms around his abdomen in a warm hug.  
"Oof-! Uh, hi, kiddo." Mike grunted when her body slammed into his side, though returned the hug (albeit a bit awkwardly due to him having to bend over due to his tall height and lanky legs).  
Upon his release, Mike knelt down on a knee, smiling.  
"Just call me 'Alex', Uncle Mike! 'Alexandra' sounds too fancy." The girl giggled, throwing her arms around his neck in yet another hug.  
"Heh. Alright, Alex. Whatever you say."  
Mike replied, patting her back as he returned the hug. "You've gotten so much taller over the years! I remember when you were eight years old and your head barely passed my hips." Mike commented, looking into the girl's big, round, forest-green eyes.  
Alexandra giggled, "Uh-huh! I remember that, too. My Daddy says that I hit a growth spurt! Whatever that means."

"Mike!"

A woman's voice called. Looking over Alexandra's shoulder, Mike spotted his sister running towards him with Dereck carrying a little pink suitcase with rainbows and a single unicorn decoration on it by her side. Mike grinned, revealing his chipped tooth. "I like your Dad's little pink suitcase." He snickered. At this comment, Alexandra laughed,  
"That's MY suitcase, silly!"

"Mike, it's been so long!"  
Molly commented, bringing her little brother into a hug, "Oh my God, Mikey, I've missed you so much!" She added, pressing a kiss to his left cheek before putting him in a surprise headlock, giving him a noogie.  
"Gah-! Molly! Lay off, will ya?" Mike laughed, wriggling out of her headlock, something that she always did to him back when they were both kids.  
Running a hand through his now messed-up chestnut-brown hair, Mike placed his other hand on his hip. "So, how's being a cardiologist working out for you?"  
He asked. Molly simply shrugged,  
"Eh. It's all good. I saved this old man's life, apparently. Had I not referred him to a doctor's office sooner, the poor guy would have had a stroke." Molly explained, stuffing both of her hands into her jacket pockets,  
"But enough about me! What about you? Still having those nightmares you were telling me about from last week?"  
She asked. You see, Mike had been having strange, recurring nightmares (five in total) that seemingly shared a set pattern. However, all five variations had one thing in common.

He was being murdered.  
More specifically, stabbed to death.

Though, it wasn't Mike himself that was being killed in these horrifying dreams.  
If anything, it was like looking out of somebody else's perspective. More specifically, a child's perspective.  
Mike was not himself in these odd nightmares.  
He could never see the killer's face.  
Blood was everywhere.  
The heads of the four animatronics laid empty on a wooden table in some sort of back room at Freddy's that Mike had never seen before. It was too empty to be the 'Parts & Service' room.  
The eerie silver gleam of a sharp butcher knife was raised above his head before it came slicing downwards, followed shortly by a piercing-loud (yet echoed) child's scream, waking him up.

Every. Single. Time.

There were five variations of the same dream, but all five dreams ended with him seeing his nightmare's killer swing the butcher knife down at him, a child screaming in terror, and Mike waking up. He had no idea what it was all about. He figured it was only work-related stress, though Molly theorized that it was from consuming way too much caffeine before bed (which could be a possibility), but for some reason, the night watchman couldn't bring himself to believe that either of those two very plausible theories to be true.  
He had no idea why.

Call it a 'gut feeling'.

"Hmph. If it isn't the stringbean himself."  
Dereck spoke up as he approached Mike.  
The somewhat shorter man resisted an eye roll, "Yeah, I've missed you too, Dereck." Mike replied, trying to sound enthusiastic but failing miserably all while avoiding eye contact. Dereck was an intimidating man of around six foot one with blonde hair styled in a buzz cut. He had a black stud piercing his right ear and fair white skin with thick brown eyebrows and forest-green eyes. He rarely ever wore a smile, preferring to wear a neutral (though rather unfriendly) expression and, despite being a defense attorney, had the build of your average bodybuilder. You could tell that the man worked out.  
"Oh, I'm sure you have, Mikey Boy."  
Dereck replied, slapping a hand over Mike's right shoulder, making the shorter male flinch from the action. Swallowing nervously, Mike cleared his throat,  
"Uh, hey, how would you feel if I bought lunch for you three? My treat."  
He offered, hoping to clear away some of the stifling tension that lingered in the air. "Oh, Mike! You don't have to." Molly smiled kindly at her little brother, "Please, it's the least I could do. I'm sure a little bag of pretzels or peanuts wasn't enough for a four hour long flight." He replied. "Yay!" "Sure. I guess." Alexandra and Dereck replied, respectively.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mmm~! This burger is delicious! Good call going to that food truck guy!"  
Molly complimented her little brother as she held a comically large cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato, and onions. The four had decided to stop by 'Tuck's Food Truck', a food truck business that was open every Saturday and Sunday, run by Mike's good friend from high school, Tucker Washington.  
"You're not lying, hun, this meatball sub is the best one I've ever eaten!" Dereck added. Molly, who sat in the passengers seat of Mike's car, glanced into the rearview mirror at Alexandra.  
"Alex? Hun? How are those cheese fries?"

"Ther awethum!"  
Alexandra replied with a mouth stuffed full of cheese fries.  
Dereck nudged his daughter's shoulder, "Oi, don't talk with your mouth full."  
He reminded her. Upon finally swallowing, Alex wiped her mouth with a brown paper napkin. "Sorry, Daddy."  
Mike, who sat in the driver's seat, had parked only a few feet away from the bright red food truck with 'Tuck's Food Truck' spelled out in white jumbo lettering outlined in blue. Both vehicles were parked out in an empty parking lot in front of the old, abandoned supermarket. In his lap was a white styrofoam to-go box filled with cheesy nachos with diced green peppers sprinkled on top. Taking a sip of his soda, Mike nodded towards Molly,  
"You're welcome. I'm telling you, Tucker has the best food in town."

"Aww. You're too kind, Mike!"

A new voice piped up from Mike's rolled-down window (The AC and heater don't work, you see).  
Looking out of the rolled-down window, Mike saw the short but skinny form of Tucker Washington. Standing at only five foot seven, Tucker Washington had umber-colored skin and kind hazel eyes. His hair was pitch black and styled in dreadlocks that went past his shoulders but ended just above his back. His eyebrows were thin and black, and he wore a pewter grey Utah Aggies hoodie and dark blue jeans with a brown leather belt and a pair of black and white Converse.  
"Tucker!" Mike exclaimed, "Hey man. How's it going?"

"Good, good. Business is doing just fine. How's that new job at the pizza place going?" Tucker asked, leaning against Mike's door.  
Mike paused mid-bite of his nachos before answering, "Good." He lied. After all, when has a job involving murderous animatronics ever 'good'?  
"Sweet, dude."  
Tucker replied before asking, "And who're these folks?"  
Mike introduced his older sister and her husband to Tucker as well as his niece. "You make the best food I have ever eaten in my entire LIFE, Mr. Washington." Molly complimented the young man. Tucker laughed and waved a dismissive hand,  
"Agh! No formalities. Please, just call me Tuck!" Tucker replied, looking back towards his food truck as two other vehicles pulled up to it.  
"Alright, well, I gotta go. It was nice meeting y'all. Oh! And, Mike? You know if Freddy's is open on the 24th? It's my little cousin's birthday. She really wants to have it at Freddy's, too." Tucker asked. Mike only shrugged, "As far as I know, yeah, it's open. How old is she turning?"  
Tucker replied, "Seven."

"Alright. Cool. Tell her that I wish her a happy early birthday!"

"Can do, Mikey!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the four had wrapped up lunch, Mike drove them to his house where he got Alexandra situated in the spare guest bedroom. Molly and Dereck had left about two hours later, leaving Alexandra under the care of Mike Schmidt. Having sat her little pink rainbow unicorn rolling suitcase down in his spare bedroom where she would be staying, Mike walked out to find the girl sitting on his sofa in the living room.  
"Can I watch TV, please? Uncle Mike?" She asked. Mike plopped himself down beside his young niece, grabbing the remote from off of the coffee table to flick through the available channels. "MTV?" Mike asked, Alexandra shook her head 'No'. "Law & Order?" "No."  
He flicked through a local news channel, an infomercial, "WAIT! Can I watch Jerry Springer?"

"How...How do you know about Jerry Springer?"  
Mike raised a brow.  
Alexandra shrugged, "My Daddy watches it all the time."  
Mike huffed, 'Go figure.' He thought silently before replying,  
"Uh, that's gonna be a big 'No', Alex."  
Mike replied, flicking through the channels before stopping on one of the many episodes of Rocko's Modern Life. "Why not? My Daddy lets me watch it with him sometimes."  
She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, I'm not Dereck. I'm Uncle Mike. And you're not allowed to be watching Jerry Springer in my house. Understand?"

"I guess."  
Alexandra grumbled, knowing that she would have to settle for Rocko's Modern Life.  
Yawning, Mike stepped over Chuckles, who was lazing about on the cool Terrazzo flooring. "All right. There's some instant ramen in the pantry, and I went out and bought some cereal, milk, bread, and some peanut butter and grape jelly." The man stated, "Uh, if you need me, I'll be in my room sleeping. Try to keep the TV turned down, ok, kiddo?"  
Mike looked towards her with tired blue eyes. Nodding, Alexandra uttered a short "Yeah" and Mike then disappeared down the short hallway, entering his bedroom and closing the door behind himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Opening his eyes, Mike was greeted by the sound of laughing children, the ringing of skeeball machines, the low din of adult conversations, and the music of the animatronic band. Everything was blurry, but he felt...safe. Secure. Like nothing could hurt him. He was shorter, and his limbs were shorter and smaller. He was a kid! A little...

He paused.

Wait. He was a girl?!

Indeed, Mike was a girl. In this dream, at least. Looking down, he wore a frilly pink dress and a pair of little glittery, ruby-red slippers that looked as if they came straight out of The Wizard of Oz.  
He had curly blonde locks that bounced with every movement. Freezing, he felt a sudden chill wash over him as a large, dark shadow loomed high over him.  
Slowly turning around and looking up, Mike (as a little girl) gulped in fear at what he saw standing over him.  
It was a giant, anthropomorphic rabbit. No, not an actual rabbit. Not even an animatronic rabbit! But rather, a man in a yellow rabbit costume. The cloth felt material looked dirty, as if it needed a good, thorough scrubbing with warm water and soap. It had a musty sort of odor to it, but it wasn't overpowering. In fact, one could easily miss the strange scent thanks to the overwhelming smell of the oily pizza baking in the kitchen and sitting out on the tables.  
The rabbit had a large, toothy smile upon the being's face. Though, the grin made it look borderline uncanny valley. It's large eyes that seemingly bulged out of it's 'skull' didn't help soothe Mike's unease.  
It's black whiskers were long, stiff, and wiry, and it wore a purple bowtie and matching vest that seemed too small for its body. Two black buttons were on the costume rabbits' chest.

"Well, hello there little one! Are you having a fun time at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza today?"

The costumed man asked in a goofy, sing-song voice.

Mike found himself nodding against his will.

"Super!" The costumed man replied,  
"I know just the thing that will make your birthday the happiest day ever! D'ya know what that is?"

Mike found himself shrugging.  
Against his will, once again.

"Not so fast, little one! It's a secret! Follow me, and I'll be happy to show you! You can trust me, little one. I'm your pal! And you can always trust your pals, right?"

Once again, 'Mike' nodded.

Just then, however, the jubilant scene of a children's pizzeria faded away into darkness. Mike felt an overwhelming fear flood every cell in his body. A looming dread. An urgency to flee. To run and hide. He felt vulnerable, and then fearful when that creepy yellow rabbit appeared once more. Only this time brandishing that same, awful butcher knife from his previous nightmares. With widened eyes, Mike, in the form of a little girl, stood paralyzed with terror as the rabbits' arm shot out, a five-fingered hand wrapping around his throat and constricting his gullet. Finding it harder to breathe as he panted from fear, he was unable to fight back against his costumed assailant. Gripping feebly as the hand enclosed around his throat, Mike fought hard. Kicking, clawing, struggling with all his might.  
Raising the knife above its head, the costumed man spoke,

"You can't run."  
"You can't hide."  
"You can't escape, little one."

"You can't."

The butcher knife swung down like a guillotine; fast, sharp, and deadly.  
The blade sliced Mike clear open.  
Looking down, the night watchman saw an ever-growing pool of blood.

Intestines pooling out of his own body and onto the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike awoke with a shout from his sleep to the sound of his alarm clock blaring. The red numbers illuminated in the darkness of his room.

'11:25 PM'

Kicking off the covers to his bed, the young night watchman made a beeline to the bathroom where he collapsed to his knees, coughing. Leaning his head over the toilet while retching, Mike felt his stomach constrict violently as he vomited whatever remained of the food from earlier, spilling his guts out into the toilet.   
That particular nightmare was new. And was easily five times more graphic than the ones from before.  
With white knuckles gripping the sides of the porcelain throne, Mike groaned weakly as he sat there hugging the damn thing.  
He could still hear his loud alarm clock blaring from his bedroom.

Sweat beaded his brow, hair sticking to his now even paler face. The young man heard a quiet knocking on his door followed by a tired, "Uncle...Mike?"  
Exhaling a shaky breath, Mike involuntarily gagged at the scent of his own stomach contents and finally managed to move to flush the toilet.  
"Are...you alright, Uncle Mike?"  
Alexandra repeated, a yawn in her voice.  
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Mike swished some water around in his mouth, rinsing the acrid taste out of his mouth. However, upon raising his head from the sink to look at himself in the mirror, Mike flinched and gasped at the sight of a slumped-over golden bear animatronic with empty eye sockets that were bleeding tears of blood sitting in the shower behind himself. Whipping around, Mike's heart was pounding against his ribcage, though he relaxed when he saw that nothing was there. "Oh...God…" he mumbled.

Drying off his hands, Mike replied,  
"Y-Yeah, Alex. I'm fine!" Though in reality, that was far from the truth.  
Opening the bathroom door, Mike looked down to see a sleepy-looking, striped pajamas-wearing Alexandra hugging her Chica plush in one arm.  
Running her tired eyes, she replied,  
"Mmm...you don't look...fine. You didn't sound...fine...either."  
Mike sighed and knelt down to her height, smiling in a comforting manner.  
"I'm fine, kiddo. Really. I just…" he paused, "I just ate something bad." He lied. He didn't need his almost ten year old niece worrying about his health.  
"Those...nachos?"  
Alexandra asked quietly.  
"Yeah,they weren't agreeing with me. It's nothing to worry about."  
Mike replied, a bit more confidently this time.  
Shrugging, Alexandra yawned into her hand,  
"Are you going...to work? My Mom says you got a job as a...night guard, right?" She asked as Mike picked her up in a princess's carry.  
Mike nodded in reply,  
"Mm-hmm."  
"Can I come with you?"  
Alexandra asked, hugging her uncle's neck.  
"I'm afraid not, kiddo. It's too dangerous." Mike replied, walking back to the spare bedroom where he laid his niece back down on the bed.  
"Now go back to bed. You need to get some more rest. Alright?"

"What do you mean 'too dangerous'? It's Freddy Fazbear's."  
Alexandra argued.  
Mike thought silently, 'That's EXACTLY why it's too dangerous!'

"Listen, if I brought you with me, and my boss found out? He would have a fit."  
Mike countered.  
Alexandra giggled, "Only if he found out~!" She challenged Mike, sitting up in bed.  
"You naughty little girl." He commented before turning to walk out, "Well, I'm going to take a shower. If you need to use the bathroom, now's your chance."  
"I'm fine. I'll just go back to bed."  
Alexandra replied, lying back down and, pulling the blankets over her once more, wished Mike goodnight and closed her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having showered and gotten dressed in his night security uniform, Mike Schmidt reached into his fridge to pull out an energy drink that he would take to work.  
Having toasted himself a bagel, he had smeared some peanut butter onto it and packed it into a brown paper bag. Grabbing his coat, he slipped it on and grabbed his bagel, energy drink, and keys though paused at the door.  
Turning around, he walked up to the guest bedroom door and peeked in, seeing Chuckles curled up at the foot of the bed; seeing a lump under the covers indicating that Alexandra was asleep.  
Quietly closing the door, Mike made his way out to his car to head to work, locking up the house for the night.

It was time to go to work.


	4. Ch. 3: Trapped

Mike stood outside of the two glass doors serving as the entrance to the hellhole known as Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.  
He couldn't help but to scoff at the cartoon version of Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and the now-defunct character of Foxy the Pirate Fox proudly displayed on the sign high above the entrance doors.  
"Tch. 'Where Fantasy and Fun Come To Life' my ass." The cynical night watchman grumbled as he checked his watch.

'11:50 PM'

He needed to get to the safety of his office, and quick, before those fuzzy hellspawn activated.  
Grabbing the keys from his belt loop, Mike stuck the appropriate key into the keyhole and turned, unlocking the door and strolling in. Though he was glad to have escaped the chilly, dry, winter Utah air, he was dreading the awful night ahead of himself. Every night spent in that awful little office like a sitting duck, being hunted by the animatronics, was awful. Always was, is, and ever shall be.  
Mike sighed, his mind drifting back to that awful, gut-wrenching dream he had of the little girl being brutally murdered by some man, no, some Fazbear employee in a bunny costume.  
Upon entering, Mike had quickly walked to his office and forgot to lock the door.  
With his bagel and energy drink in hand, he managed to make it to his office despite the low levels of available light in the building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12:00 AM / 100% Power

Mike's shift officially started. Having taken a seat in his wheeled chair, Mike flipped open the clunky laptop to look around using the cameras. Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica were all onstage. Foxy was behind his curtain in Pirate's Cove. Good. With a bored yawn, Mike closed the laptop and leaned back, the little desk fan blowing weakly on his face.  
Those huggable demons were getting smarter with every passing night, and deep down, Mike knew that those robots were pissed. He was a night watchman, their natural enemy. He's like a lone deer that continuously outsmarts the pack of ravenous wolves seeking to kill him.

That's not how it's supposed to go. Both he and they know this.

He was supposed to die. And yet, he didn't. 

He was always one step ahead of the animatronics at all times, no matter what tricks they had ever tried to pull on him. He knew that these robots could learn. Whether it was because of highly-advanced military-grade artificial intelligence or something a little more...supernatural? He didn't know. And he didn't care to know.  
All Mike knew was that he was their target, and that they would have a new strategy to experiment with in an attempt to get a hold of him. It was like a strange, deadlier game of cat and mouse. Except it was four (sometimes five) cats against one lone, annoyingly adaptable, little mouse.  
Mike Schmidt wasn't the strongest, handsomest, or even the smartest guy around, but the man can adapt.

As Mike flipped through the security feeds, he noticed both Freddy and Chica had left the stage already and-  
"ALEXANDRA-?!" Mike exclaimed before realizing what he just did, slapping a hand over his mouth. Closing the laptop and checking the hallways, both empty, he reopened the clunky computer and went back to the Dining Area's live camera feed where he saw a confused-looking nine year old standing there, looking around as if looking for someone. Specifically, him.  
"Uncle Miiiike? Uncle Miiiike! Where are you?" She called out.

"How the Hell did she-?!" Mike's eyes widened in horror. He was frozen in place, paralyzed by fear. His niece had somehow gotten here from his house. And not to mention, he forgot to lock the front doors (not that that really mattered now, anyway).  
Growling in frustration and fear, Mike slammed the laptop closed, "Damn it! Damn it, Damn it, Damn it!" He hissed, pacing back and forth in the cramped confines of his office all while gripping his hair, stressing out. Mike was going to overstep his boundaries as Alexandra's uncle and seriously GROUND this kid! The nerve she has for disobeying an authority figure be damned! She was putting herself in danger and putting HIM at risk of termination! He was SO getting fired because of her little stunt. Mike just knew it!

He could only imagine what would happen if one of those death machines got a hold of his precious niece.

Swallowing the bile that threatened to work its way up his throat, Mike shook himself out. "O-Ok. Calm down, Mike. Everything will be fine. Just run out there, grab Alex, and nothing will happen! No animatronic will kill you. Besides, Foxy is the only real fast one here. You can outrun the others, right? Right! Alright. Oh man, oh man! Ok...ok…" he shuddered, taking a few breaths, mentally psyching himself up for this rescue mission.  
"One...two...THREE!" Mike bolted out of his office and down the left hallway, glossy black shoes pounding against the black and white checkered tile flooring almost as hard as his heart was pounding against his ribcage, panting hard as he ran, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He ran the fastest he had ever run before.  
He zipped past Pirate's Cove, and his heart got caught in his throat when he could have sworn he saw the purple curtain ruffle a bit as he passed. Stopping in his tracks, he heard the familiar voice of Alexandra.  
"Uncle Mikey!"

"Alex! Don't you dare 'Uncle Mikey' me!"  
Mike hissed, running up to her, grabbing her arm. "You are so, SO grounded, kiddo!" He huffed, not even bothering to let her speak,  
"Gah! Follow me, and keep quiet." He grumbled, storming back (quietly) to his office at a brisk pace. Upon arrival, Mike turned to face his niece, both hands on his hips.  
"Alex, I have a few questions for you. One, how did you get here? And don't even bother trying to lie to me."  
Alex shrugged, "I hitched a ride in your car." She replied plainly, "There's nothing to do at your house besides watching TV and playing with Chuckles. Besides, I just wanted to see my friends again." She explained.  
Mike ran a hand over his face. Of course, by 'friends', she meant that she wanted to see Freddy Fazbear and the gang! Pinching the bridge of his nose, the night watchman sighed in a resigned manner.  
"Alex, I don't know how to explain this other than you just can't be here right now!" Mike explained, opening the laptop to scan through the security feeds.

"And why not?" Alex challenged, "It's just Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, Uncle Mike. There's nothing bad or scary here! Freddy and his friends won't let anything bad happen to us." The little girl tried to reassure her clearly panicking uncle, though she failed.  
Mike ran a shaky hand through his wavy, brown, shoulder-length hair,  
"If one of those animatronics doesn't get to me first, Dereck is going to skin me alive!" Mike muttered, frozen in place when he saw Bonnie strolling down West Hall.  
"Shit!"  
He swore, slamming a fist over the left door button, the heavy metal door slamming firmly shut. Sighing, Mike uttered a quiet 'sorry' for swearing in front of the little girl.  
"What are those doors for, Uncle Mike?" Alexandra asked curiously, tilting her head towards the door Mike had slammed shut.  
Mike gave his niece a sheepish smile,  
"Just in case any intruders try to...uh, break in." He replied. Flicking on the hall light, Mike's blood ran cold when he saw Bonnie's tall shadow cast upon the wall.

The bunny was right outside of his office door, having completely disregarded the Supply Closet!

Alex gasped happily when she saw Bonnie lean close to the window to take a peek inside of the office. Tilting his head, the purplish-blue bunny made eye contact with the little girl, who smiled and waved at him.  
Leaning against the window, Alex spoke,  
"Hi Bonnie! Were you gonna come say 'hi' to my Uncle Mike?" She asked through the plexiglass office window. Bonnie only blinked his magenta eyes at Alexandra, raising a big, paw-like hand to the plexiglass. Alexandra placed her hand onto plexiglass from inside of the office, smiling at Bonnie.  
The animatronic then turned it's artificial eyes to stare directly at Mike, who felt smaller and smaller the longer the rabbit looked at him.  
"Oh God-!"  
Mike whimpered, swallowing as he met Bonnie's gaze.

"Uncle Mike? Why are you so scared of Bonnie?" Alexandra asked, giving Mike a confused look. Slowly moving to sit up straighter, "I-He…" Mike stumbled over his words, unable to think properly as his stomach twisted up in nervous knots.  
"He's...They all…" he took a deep breath, recollecting his thoughts,  
"Alex, I don't like Bonnie," Mike began, 'Mainly, because that jackass is always trying to kill me!' he thought silently,  
"because he's a bully." He finished, checking the security feeds again.

1 AM / 88% Power

'Shit! That rabbit's draining my power!'

Mike thought silently, closing the security feeds to conserve more power.  
"A bully?" Alexandra questioned, glancing over at her, Mike replied, "Uh, y-yeah! He's a bully. He bullies me every night. And so do the others." He explained quietly. He didn't want to scare his niece by revealing that her fuzzy friends by day were actually callous killers by night. Mike flipped on the security feeds again, checking Pirate's Cove. Foxy was peeking through the starry purple curtains, his golden-yellow eyes glowing dimly in the dark. Upon noticing the camera, Foxy retreated back behind the curtains,  
"Good creepy fox…" Mike muttered, flicking through the feeds and-

Freddy Fazbear was gone.

Feeling a sting of panic, Mike hurriedly flicked through the feeds, being sure to look towards the shadowy areas on the screen. Freddy seemed to be the smartest of them all; always keeping himself hidden in the shadows of the establishment during the night. Finally, he caught Freddy peeking out from the women's restroom on CAM 7.  
Closing the laptop, Mike checked the hallway, sighing in relief when he saw that Bonnie had left. Opening the door once again, Mike went right back to monitoring the establishment.  
Meanwhile, Alexandra wandered around the cramped security office's space. Observing the pictures tacked onto the wall, she approached Mike's cluttered desk. Reaching for the empty Freddy Fazbear soda cup sitting off to the side, she swept aside the crumpled up piece of paper and managed to sit herself down on top of the desk, looking outside into the West Hall, bored out of her mind and a bit upset that Bonnie had left.  
"Why do they bully you?"

Mike looked up from the screen at his niece, "What-?"

"Freddy Fazbear and his friends. Why do they bully you every night? Don't they know that you're the one keeping them safe from the bad guys?"  
Alexandra asked, confused by the notion of those goofy animatronics bullying her friendly uncle. Mike laughed nervously,  
"Ah-ha-ha! I, uhh, I guess not." He replied, sighing, kicking his feet up onto the desk beside Alexandra as he leaned back, flipping through the feeds.

2 AM / 79% Power

Alexandra huffed as she slid off of his desk, placing both hands onto her hips,  
"I'm gonna go tell them to stop bullying you, then." She suddenly spoke up, making Mike do a double take. "You're gonna what now-?"  
"I said I'm gonna go tell Freddy and the others to stop bullying you." Alexandra repeated, adding, "You're the best uncle in the world and one of the nicest people I know! You don't deserve to be bullied."

"Absolutely not!" Mike spoke up.

"I know!" Alexandra replied.

"Ah, no! Look, I mean that you are absolutely NOT going to step foot out of this office! Not without me, you aren't." Mike explained, looking over at his niece, praying that she wouldn't have any stupid though well-meaning ideas. "But why not?" Alexandra challenged, "My Mom always told me that if I'm being bullied, then I should try to talk things out with the bully and try to understand them, first, so that it can be resolved. She always says that empathy is really important!"  
Mike sighed, closing the security feeds and, running both hands over the length of his face, groaned. 'That might work with human bullies, but animatronic murderers are something else ENTIRELY.' He thought silently, "No, Alexandra. We are not leaving this office until it is 6 AM." Mike firmly replied, giving Alexandra a stern look. However, the girl simply crossed her arms over her chest, "But we have to try! If we don't, then they'll just keep bullying you!" The girl argued, glaring stubbornly at her uncle.  
"Alexandra Wilhelm Carter, 'No' means 'No'. We are NOT leaving this office until it is 6 AM. Those animatronics WILL hurt you if they catch you! Do you understand?" Mike repeated, trying to reason with the naive little nine year old.  
Pouting, Alexandra plopped herself down near Mike's jacket that lay on the office floor, remaining silent. Sighing, Mike softened his tone, "Hey," he sat aside the laptop on the desk, removing his feet that were propped up on the desk as he got out of his chair. Kneeling down on a knee in front of his niece, Mike gave her a kind smile, placing a hand on top of her head,  
"listen, kiddo, I know that you're only trying to help, but I can assure you, everything is just fine. I know how to deal with Freddy and the others. I've been doing so for a little over a month now." Mike paused, his smile faltering ever so slightly when she gave him a pleading look. "Uncle Mikey, pleeease?" She gave him sad puppy dog eyes. Chuckling, Mike ruffled the little girl's hair. "That's still a big 'No', kiddo." Huffing once more, Alexandra muttered a quiet 'fine' and yawned, leaning back against the security office's back wall. Mike pulled his grossly oversized (and heavy) men's jacket over her much smaller body, allowing Alexandra to use it as a makeshift blanket. "Get some rest, Alex. A kid like you doesn't need to be staying up past her bedtime."

"But," Alexandra yawned, "I wanna keep you company." Mike looked down at her curled up form with a kind smile, "That's very sweet of you, but I'll be fine. Now," he paused, "just get some rest." He whispered. Watching as she closed her eyes, her form relaxing, Mike stood back up, hardening his expression. He HAS to survive tonight, no matter the cost. He needed to be careful. He can't lose power. Not tonight. Not with Alexandra in his office! Returning to his chair at his desk, Mike leaned back once more, grabbing the clunky piece of junk known as the security laptop.

"Bring it on, Fazbear. Bring. It. On."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 AM / 33% Power

Mike had put forth all of his concentration into keeping those creepy robots out of his office. Chica had lingered outside in the East Hall for what felt like an eternity before leaving, which really put the strain on his power levels. Then Bonnie and Chica double-teamed him about thirty minutes after the chicken had given up on trying to get in.  
"Damn stupid piece of poultry!" He hissed at Chica, who simply stared back at him, lower beak agape as if ready to devour him whole, "Leave. Us. Alone!" He added, quietly, as to not awaken the sleeping Alexandra.

...32%...31%...

Groaning, Mike flicked off both animatronics, shooting a glare at both rabbit and chicken.  
Finally, Chica had moved on, and Mike hurriedly reopened the door. Bonnie soon followed, and Mike reopened the other door.  
He sipped away the last of his energy drink, burping quietly into his hand, before biting into his peanut buttered bagel and leaning back in the chair.  
"6 AM can't come fast enough."  
He muttered to himself after swallowing the sticky food item. Upon hearing a quiet groan, Mike looked over his shoulder at Alexandra, who sat up and rubbed her sleep-ridden eyes.  
Mike sighed, "Morning, Sleeping Beauty." He teased her lightly, spinning around in the chair to face her. "Get enough sleep?" He asked her. "Mmm…" was all Mike received as a response. "I take that as a yes?"

She nodded.

"Good. It's almost time to go. Just two more hours, and we can finally go home."  
Mike informed the nine year old, who simply blinked at him.  
"Uncle Mike?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"...I have to pee."

"...You what-?"  
Mike asked, raising a brow.

"I have to pee. Like, really bad!"  
Alexandra repeated.

"Uhhh, kiddo, we only have two hours left to go. Can't you hold it?" He asked.  
Alexandra shook her head 'No', "Uncle Miiike!" She whined. Groaning, Mike turned to check the security feed to get a feel of where the animatronics were. Freddy returned to the stage, Foxy was in Pirate's Cove, Bonnie was in the Part's & Service room, Chica was making a racket in the Kitchen. "Oh God...Oh God, oh God, oh God!" Mike repeated, rubbing his face after setting his half-eaten bagel aside.  
"Alex...do you REALLY have to go?"  
Alexandra nodded an urgent 'Yes' and Mike pinched the bridge of his nose,  
"The things I'm willing to do for you…" he muttered before standing up, holding out his hand, "Come on. We have to be quick! They're really aggressive tonight, Alex."  
Smiling, Alexandra took her uncle's hand and followed him as he led her to the restrooms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike stood watch as he waited outside of the women's restroom, waiting for his niece to finish up her business. He was on the lookout for either Chica or Freddy, assuming the big brown bear animatronic had left the stage.  
With a pounding heart, Mike flinched at every little sound he heard. Every creak. Every tap. Every click. Every muscle in his body remained tense, fight or flight instincts at the ready (though, mostly just the 'flight' part).  
Tapping his foot impatiently, Mike leaned back against the wall. "Come on...come on...come ON!" He hissed to nobody in particular. Stuffing both hands in his pockets, Mike waited.

Hearing the sink's hiss go off in the women's bathroom served as a relief. She was washing and drying her hands! That meant she'd be coming out at any moment, now.  
Mike made the mistake of looking down the hallway after spotting movement.  
There, Chica stood.  
The only 'female' animatronic's eyes were totally black with only white pinprick pupils. She looked scary. Angry, even, as she faced Mike. Gasping involuntarily, Mike's stomach dropped and his breath got caught in his throat. His frightened blue eyes widened and his hands were shaking. His ever racing heart rate only increased in speed when the robot began to make it's way over to him.  
However, the night watchman stood frozen in place. He felt nauseous, knowing how he would meet his own demise.  
Stuffed in a Freddy Fazbear suit, bloodied, with shattered bones, torn muscles and ligaments, brain matter and bits of his skull splattered everywhere, and ultimately mangled beyond recognition.

Just like the phone guy.

He felt dizzy; lightheaded.

"Uncle Mike...?"  
The frightened voice of Alexandra snapped the night watchman out of his own morbid predictions of the near future.  
"Alex, run! NOW!"  
Mike ordered. Grabbing the girl's hand, Mike and Alexandra sprinted down the hall, away from Chica. Alexandra's eyes pricked with tears, "Uncle Mike! Wh~What's going on?! I'm scared!" Skidding to a halt, Freddy had stepped out in front of the two with Chica approaching from behind.

They were trapped.

Swallowing, Mike instinctively pushed Alexandra behind him as he slowly began to back away from Freddy. The bear proceeded to stalk towards Mike, the bear's eyes looking similar to Chica's.  
Feeling helpless, tears pricked at Mike's own eyes. He was going to die. No. THEY were going to die. Both himself AND Alexandra!  
They were both going to suffer the same fate, being shoved into a Freddy suit and tossed out into the dumpster behind the restaurant by tomorrow morning; not even receiving a proper funeral.  
Mike's shaking knees gave out under himself, tears streaming down his face, and seeing this honestly scared Alexandra more than the imposing animatronics that had cornered them did. The man was sobbing. Sobbing! Uncle Mike was always a happy, warm-hearted sort of guy! He never really cried, let alone, sob! This was so unlike him.  
As Mike sobbed bitterly, his body shook with every involuntary breath he took,  
"No! No! I don't wanna die! Please, no!"  
This was it. This was how they would die.  
Alexandra wrapped her arms around his side as he sat there, on his hands and knees.  
Shaking, breaths hitching in his throat, Mike slowly turned his head to look up at Freddy but screamed when Freddy's large, brown paw reached down towards him, but instead, watched in horror as the animatronic grabbed Alexandra by her shoulder, using his other paw-like hand to pry a now fighting Alexandra away from him.  
"Hey! Lemme go! Stop it!" Alexandra yelled at Freddy, throwing punches and kicking her legs back, though these actions barely fazed the large, sturdy bear animatronic.  
"H-Hey! You let her go, you dumb fucking bea-AAAGGHHH!!"  
Mike screamed when Chica's hand-like wing grabbed him roughly by the back of his uniform's collar, beginning to drag him away. Clawing feebly at the air, Mike kicked his legs at Chica in an attempt to free himself. His eyes widened in fear when he saw that Freddy Fazbear had his niece held back. "No, no, no! Damn it! Leave her alone! She's just a kid!" He cried, trying in vain to reason with the animatronic that held her back. Chica then let go of him before quickly grabbing the front of his uniform's collar, slamming Mike against the wall and held him up with a single four-fingered, hand-like wing. The back of Mike's head connected to the wall, and stars exploded in his vision as a result of the mild trauma. "Ugh-!" He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut, clawing at Chica's hand when she grabbed his once again, trying to pry her iron grip off of him.

"Monster!" She spat, tightening her grip, "You leave that little girl alone, you lying snake!"

"Stop! Leave my uncle alone!"  
Alexandra yelled out to Chica, tears streaming down her face. The chicken animatronic paused, turning to look back at the girl, her eyes still black.  
"What?" Chica asked, her tone softened significantly when addressing Alexandra.  
"Please!," Alexandra repeated, "Leave my Uncle Mike alone!"  
Chica's eyes had returned to their normal colors, "Uncle…?" Chica muttered, but shook her head "Why should I? He was going to hurt you, just like how he hurt us!" She argued.  
Alexandra made a face and shook her head 'No', "Hurt you? My Uncle Mike would never hurt anyone! Not even a fly!" Alexandra replied, Mike stared at his niece in shock, they weren't trying to drag her away to stuff her into a suit!  
"Sh~She's te-telling the tru-"

"Quiet, you!"  
Chica hissed, eyes momentarily going back to black with white pinprick pupils.  
They were even scarier up close.  
Clamping his mouth shut, Mike hung like a limp noodle in Chica's grasp, breathing hard.  
The chicken returned her attention back to Alexandra and Freddy himself spoke up,  
"And how do you know that this man wouldn't hurt you?" Freddy asked,  
"You can't trust grown-up's. They're liars. All of them!" The bear spoke bitterly, glaring at Mike.  
"Then you don't understand! My Uncle Mike is the coolest, most friendliest uncle on the planet! And he's not a liar!" Alexandra defended him, glaring up at Freddy when she spoke. "I've known my Uncle Mike since forever. He isn't the bad one here! If anything, that's you guys! All he wants to do is to protect you all from the bad people and here you are, bullying him!"

"If your 'uncle' wanted to protect us so badly, then where was he when we were-"

"-That's enough! Chica, drop the guard."  
Freddy sternly interrupted Chica, shaking his head. Chica released Mike, dropping him to the ground.  
For whatever odd reason, Mike noticed that the animatronics moved far more...fluidly. And it weirded him out, honestly. "Chica, take the girl out to the Dining Area. I'll take care of the grown-up."  
Freddy ordered calmly, regaining the composure that he had lost just seconds earlier, glaring at Mike. Nodding, Chica approached Alexandra and reached out with a hand, her eyes back to their normal colors. "Follow me. I'll make you a pizza, if you want." The chicken offered kindly, seemingly smiling on top of that.  
"Wait-! A-Alexandra…" Mike slowly stood up and began to make his way closer to his niece, reaching out with a hand, only to pause when Freddy blocked his path and Chica gently pushed Alexandra behind her. Retracting his hand, Mike gulped.

"No."  
Alexandra stated simply, pushing her way past both Chica and Freddy, shocking the two animatronics. Mike watched in silence, shaking in fear.  
Standing in front of the shivering form of Mike Schmidt, the little girl bravely spread her arms in a defensive position.  
"I'm not going anywhere unless my Uncle Mike is with me. That was the rule." She looked over her shoulder, up at the traumatized adult, smiling, "Isn't that right? Uncle Mike?"  
Swallowing the bile that threatened to spill from his mouth due to the overwhelming fear that gripped his being, Mike slowly managed to shakily regain his composure.  
"Y-Yes. That's right, Alex."  
Chica narrowed her eyes at Mike, angry that this grown-up had hoodwinked the girl into trusting him.  
Freddy made a sound resembling a chuckle. Not his hearty laugh that he was known for, but a strangely human-like chuckle.  
"I suppose." Was all the bear replied, looking towards Chica, nodding towards Alexandra.  
"Come on, uh, Alex, was it? Follow me to the Dining Area. Don't worry about your…'Uncle'. He won't be hurt." She shot a glare towards Mike, who knelt down in front of Alexandra. The little girl had turned around to face him.  
"Th-Thank you, Alex." Mike managed to get out, watching as Alexandra threw her arms around his relatively thin neck, pressing her warm, round cheek against his squarer, bonier one. "I won't let them bully you, Uncle Mike. I promise!" She whispered reassuringly.

'Let's hope so.'

"And don't let them hurt you."  
Mike whispered back, returning his niece's hug. "I won't, Uncle Mike." She replied before letting go of her uncle to join Chica to the Dining Area, taking the animatronic chicken's hand as they then disappeared around the corner. Standing back up, Mike was pinned against the wall by Freddy. Gasping, Mike felt horribly uncomfortable with the amount of space between him and the taller animatronic in front of him. Freddy's dark blue eyes met Mike's lighter pair as he narrowed said eyes at Mike in a disturbingly human fashion. "Don't think that I don't know what game you're playing, Mister Schmidt."  
The bear growled lowly, large paw-like hand right to the left of Mike's head against the wall. 'He's even cordial when he's upset.' Mike silently thought before replying,  
"I-I'm sorry, I don't know...what are you even talking about?" The watchman winced when Freddy leaned in closer, closing the gap between their faces, 'Oh shit! Don't tell me, he's gonna rip out my frontal lobe-!'

"If you even LOOK at that innocent little girl the way you did to us, I won't hesitate to kill you the same way you killed me and my friends."

Mike's blue eyes widened. Killed?  
"I didn't kill anyone!" The guard defended himself, only to be grabbed by Freddy and forcefully thrown to the floor, a large, heavy foot paw pinned him down onto his back.  
"AGH-! What the hell was that for?!" Mike winced when pressure was applied to his rib cage and diaphragm, making it more difficult to breathe.  
"First, watch your language."  
Freddy spat venomously, leaning down to glare at Mike, "Second, don't play dumb with me! It's because of you, we are like this! It's because of you, we're monsters! It's because of you, we can't go home! We're trapped here! And it's all because of YOU!" Freddy roared, now increasing pressure onto Mike's struggling diaphragm and stomach.  
"AGH-! S-stop! Please!...Can't…" Mike's vision began to blur, clouding his vision.  
"Breathe…" he wheezed out, only to sit up, coughing viciously as he sat up after Freddy had removed his foot from the end of his breastbone, the middle of his lower chest.  
Taking deep breaths, trying to regain as much oxygen as he could, Mike wrapped an arm around his sore rib cage, shuddering as he sat on his bum on the floor.  
"Get up."  
Freddy commanded the guard coldly, turning his mean, icy glare to Mike.  
"And follow me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike had followed Freddy out to the Dining Area, where the scent of fresh pizza had immediately hit his nose. He wouldn't lie, it actually smelled delicious.  
And, strangely enough, the lights were now on, too. Raising a brow, Mike took in his brightened surroundings, squinting to allow his eyes to adjust to the sudden artificial brightness created by the troffer lights in the ceiling.  
"Wait, how is there ligh-" Mike began

"-A back-up generator."  
Freddy interrupted, not even bothering to look back at the guard. 'Oh. Well, that would have been awfully nice to know about, management!' Mike thought in silent bitterness.  
With zipped lips, he had located the source of the fresh pizza smell. Seated in one of the various chairs lined up at one of the party tables eagerly eating up a comically large slice of pizza from a Fazbear pizza box was Alexandra, a small soda cup sitting off to the side. "Uncle Mike! Uncle Mike!" Alexandra called over to him, waving her hand for him to come over. Approaching the party table, Mike took a seat in front of his niece,  
"Are you-"

"Look at what Chica made me!"  
She smiled, pointing to the pizza box with a steaming, fresh-out-of-the-oven eight slice pepperoni and cheese pizza.  
Mike raised a dubious brow. An animatronic that...knew how to cook? Was this another dream he was having? Where did such a cheap, corner-cutting business ever get the money to use such advanced technology?  
"Silly! I didn't actually make the pizza itself. I just warmed it up in the oven."  
Chica spoke up from behind Mike, making the poor guard practically jump out of his own skin. "Oh, relax! I wasn't going to hurt you, misterrr-?"

Relaxing slightly, he replied "Oh! I'm-I'm Mike." And he then held out a stiff hand to the chicken animatronic, taking her by surprise. Chica gave Mike a suspicious look before suddenly laughing out loud, now taking Mike by surprise. Chica, an animatronic, actually laughed! Of course, it was a strangely organic sound, so it took him by surprise when it sounded neither cartoonish nor robotic. "Alright 'Mike', I'm S-Uh, Chica. Chica the Chicken." Chica replied, giving Mike a firm handshake. "Y'know, Mike, you don't seem so bad." The chicken shook her head, though Mike only shrugged dismissively. "Thank you."  
"Hey, I'm also sorry about roughing you up earlier. Uh, Alex was telling me a lot about you." She stated. Mike chuckled softly, "Is that so?" This time, Alexandra spoke up,  
"Uh-huh! I told her about the time when we spent my eighth birthday here and you won a bunch of tickets just to get me the jumbo Chica plush!"  
She replied. Chica giggled, again, in a strangely 'human' manner. "That was awfully sweet of you to do, Mr. Schmidt."  
Mike scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, smiling "Ah, it's nothing. She's my niece and that's what she wanted. Oh, and, please, it's just 'Mike'." He replied, taking a hot slice of the pizza into his hand, folding it taco-style.  
Taking a bite, Mike's watch began beeping. 6 AM had arrived! And, yet again, Mike had lived to tell the tale despite the close encounter with the animatronics.  
"What's that timer for?"  
Chica asked, curiously.  
"It's my six AM alarm. It just tells me that my shift is officially over." He replied after swallowing, setting his slice aside on a napkin, he shut off the alarm.  
Chica seemingly smiled at Mike and Alexandra, "Well, you two enjoy your pepperoni pizza! And don't forget to purchase a thirty-two ounce Freddy fountain drink while you're at it! See ya, Mike and Alex!" The chicken waved goodbye, bounding up onto the stage where Bonnie was sitting on the edge, polishing his red rock guitar prop.  
Soon, all three assumed their positions onstage, and Foxy? He was in Pirate's Cove by himself, secluded from the rest of the restaurant. Mike felt a sudden pang of pity for the fox. Yes, pity. For a robot.  
Mike sighed. He was losing his mind!

"Hey, Alex? I need to get my jacket. It's back in the office. Stay here and enjoy your pizza, I'll be right back."  
Mike told the girl, playfully ruffling her hair, making her laugh. "Come on, Uncle Mikey! Really?!" She grinned happily, watching as he grabbed his slice of pizza and disappeared down the hall.  
A few moments after Mike disappeared from the Dining Area, the front door swung open, and in-stepped a young woman. More specifically, the young woman that greeted Mike every morning while he smoked. She was always the first of the day shift staff to arrive, most of the time.

Upon spotting the young girl, the woman hurried over to her, looking shocked to see a child this early in the morning in the restaurant.  
"Hello there, sweetie! Uh, w-what are you doing here?" The young woman asked, "And...why was the door unlocked? The night guard is supposed to lock the place up every night."  
"A-Am I in trouble?"  
Alexandra asked shyly. "Oh, no! No, you're not, sweetie. I just want to know, is all." The day shift woman replied kindly, taking a seat at the table. "W-Well...my uncle is the night watchman and I kind of snuck along to keep him company. I dunno why he didn't lock the door." Alexandra replied.  
Chuckling, the day shift woman then asked, "Uh, well, what's your name?"

"A-Alexandra. But, I just go by 'Alex'."  
Alexandra replied, taking a sip of her cola.  
Looking over the girl's shoulder when she heard the jingling of keys, the day shift woman smiled when she saw Mike freeze in the hallway entrance, a piece of pizza hanging out of his mouth as he gripped it between his teeth as he was putting his jacket on. Hurriedly taking the half-eaten slice out of his mouth, Mike smiled, "Uh, g-good morning, miss!" The woman returned Mike's smile with her own,  
"Is that pizza any good?"  
She asked.

"I'm sorry-?" Mike replied, confused by her response.

"Oh, I, uh, just saw that you were eating a slice of Freddy Fazbear pepperoni pizza. I was asking if it was any good."  
The day shift woman explained, albeit a bit awkwardly.  
Mike's eyes widened and he glanced at the slice in his hand, "...Oh! You were talking about THIS pizza? Uhh, y-yeah! Yeah! It's...uh, it's pretty good!   
Uh, Fazbear-licious! Heh~"  
Mike then licked his lips and cleared his throat awkwardly when he received a side-eye glance from Alexandra, who made a face and shook her head lightly, though disapprovingly.

'God, why did I just say that…?'

Mike thought silently, mentally kicking himself in the rear for saying something so stupid.

Laughing awkwardly, the day shift woman watched as Mike joined the two females at the party table.  
"I guess that's a good thing. Though, I wouldn't imagine a Freddy Fazbear flavor would be too delicious." The lady chuckled lightly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That morning, Mike Schmidt didn't leave right away like usual. The two adults and single child sat down on the concrete curbside, the box of pizza in Mike's lap as the night watchman started on his second slice while the woman started on her first. Alexandra was nibbling on her second slice as well.  
"Um, what's your name?" Mike asked the woman, averting his light blue eyes from her dark brown ones. "My name is Stef." The woman replied, "Stef Conway."

"Stef, eh? Is that short for 'Stephanie'?"  
Mike asked. Stef only smiled, an action of which made the night watchman's heart skip a beat. "No, it's...it's just Stef." The woman then shrugged, "It's kind of plain. I guess my folks couldn't think of anything more creative than just 'Stef'."  
Mike only shook his head, smiling,  
"Ah, well, I think it suits you. 'Stef'. I like it.   
It...has a nice ring to it." Stef then averted her gaze with a shy laugh, only to reply with, "You know, I don't think I ever got your name, either, mister."

"Mike. Mike Schmidt."  
Mike replied, grinning. 

"Mike, huh? Is that short for 'Michael'?"  
Stef asked with an exaggerated shrug, earning a chuckle out of Mike, who pointed at her with a single index finger in response,  
"He-ha! Clever. I see what you did there."  
He replied, looking away from her as another car pulled in. A blue, 1970's-era Malibu.  
It was the manager, Trevor Ackerman.   
Tall, imposing, with a hair-trigger temper, Trevor Ackerman had been the manager of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza since 1988.   
He managed Freddy's with an iron fist ever since the string of murders that took place, and he's been responsible for trying to clean up the name of Freddy Fazbear's ever since.   
He's notorious for his scrutiny over his employees, and holds each and every one of them to the highest standards; most likely an attempt to weed out any potential serial killers and to make the customers feel safe.

"Conway! What the hell are you doin' sittin' out 'ere with the night watchman eatin' pizza? Come on, now!"  
Trevor called over to Stef in his heavy Brooklyn accent. Thankfully, he didn't notice Alexandra, or else Mike would have been skinned alive by Trevor over liabilities and whatnot.  
Stef sighed upon finishing her pizza,  
"Well, it was nice meeting you, Mike." She said with a friendly smile.   
Mike returned her smile with his own,  
"Stef? Uh, would you maybe be interested in hanging out sometime?" He asked her rather shyly. Stef shrugged, "I don't know, I mean, we both have polar opposite schedules and all…" she sighed when she saw Mike's smile falter at these words, quickly adding,  
"But, I would really love to! You seem like a nice guy." Stef then stood up, brushed herself off and waved goodbye to both Mike and Alexandra.   
The security guard watched as her figure disappeared through the entrance doors, his elbow resting on his knee, and a cheek resting in a hand as a soft sigh escaped past his lips.

When Mike returned home to sleep that day, the man's dreams were, for once, peaceful.  
No nightmares of bloodthirsty animatronics, of ghosts, or of serial killers.  
For once, he dreamed something peaceful. He felt at ease, like everything was going to be alright.  
However, Mike's dreams couldn't be farther from the truth.

Bad things were brewing, and trouble was just getting started.


	5. Ch. 4: Bad Memories

((The Next Night / 11:30 PM))

"I can't believe I'm doing this."  
Mike muttered, gripping the dirty steering wheel of his hunk-of-junk car. Stains from God knows what marred the seats with random, dark blotches scattered randomly about. An old sun bleached air freshener dangled from the rear view mirror. A couple of paid-off speeding tickets laid haphazardly upon his dashboard along with some coupons that had long since expired. Trash ranging from paper bags stained with grease, old soda cans, and 'loser' lottery tickets littered the front and back passenger seat floors. The air conditioner thermostat knob had been broken off and remained missing.

In other words, Mike's car was a dump, much like his current life situation.

Alexandra giggled as she gently kicked her legs as she sat strapped into the shotgun seat. "I can't believe you're doing this, either! My Daddy would SO kill you if he found out!" She laughed, grinning towards her uncertain uncle. "Y-Yeah. You're not wrong about that." Mike sheepishly replied, subconsciously gripping the steering wheel even harder than he already was. With white knuckles, Mike stared out at the darkened road ahead as he drove. Why WAS he doing this? Well, for starters, the only reason he survived the too-close-for-comfort confrontation last night was because of Alexandra.   
For whatever reason, the animatronics were fearing for HER safety. And they didn't seem to trust 'grown-up's' as Freddy put it. This left the man deeply confused. They thought that he was going to harm Alexandra and they didn't trust a single word that came out of his mouth. Well, at least, not Freddy or Chica. Mike has yet to meet Bonnie and Foxy (and Golden Freddy, for that matter.)  
And he was certainly NOT looking forward to doing so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Freddy watched as a car pulled up into the restaurant's parking lot. The large brown bear animatronic narrowed his artificial blue optics at the glass, though made no effort to move. Watching as the man fiddled with the keys, Mike had unlocked the door and allowed Alexandra to walk through. Immediately, the girl ran past Mike and climbed up onto the stage, giggling. "Alex! No!" He hissed with a fearful look. Mike darted towards the Show Stage, pausing when he saw Alexandra hugging Freddy's waist. "Alex! Get away from that thing!" Mike hissed, not knowing that Freddy and the others were actively listening to every word he said.

"Hi Freddy! It's me, Alex! Y'know, from last night?" Alexandra spoke to the stiff animatronic bear, looking up at the bear that towered over her. Ignoring her uncle, she continued, "I know that you don't like my Uncle Mike for whatever reason," she looked over at Bonnie, letting go of Freddy to walk over to the purplish-blue rabbit, "but that's no excuse to bully him. He's really scared of you guys already."

"Alex, come on."  
Mike whispered, holding up his hands to help her get down from the stage.  
"Let's just go to my office, alright?" He asked, and Alex shrugged. "Oh, alright. But can I pleeease hang out with them once they're moving around?" The little girl pleaded, giving her uncle her best sad puppy-dog eyes. "You know I still don't trust them around you, right?" Mike replied, helping her get down from the Show Stage, walking back to Mike's security office. "Yeah, yeah. I know! But there's no reason to be scared! I'm here. They won't hurt you, Uncle Mike. I promise." She spoke seriously, making the older man chuckle. "Whatever you say, Al." He replied.  
After turning down the West Hall, a small throbbing headache began to form in his left temple. Ignoring it, the adult and child continued their way towards Mike's office. However, that stubborn headache would not go away. It was a dull, aching throb in his left temple. And for whatever reason, it came on suddenly. Of course, Mike chalked it up to work-related stress.

Attempting to rub it away as the two walked, the words 'IT'S ME' began flashing before his eyes, and he began hearing what could only be described as a robot's voice. Mike began to feel lightheaded, and his equilibrium was thrown off by whatever it was he was going through. "Urgh…" Mike groaned, rubbing his sore head as images of the empty, slumped-over golden Freddy Fazbear suit stained with blood began to flash before his eyes. He had to lean on the wall for support as the dull ache grew to a ferocious throbbing pain.   
The headache steadily increased to the strength of a full-blown migraine, and Mike found the hallway tipping heavily to the right as he collapsed, sliding down the wall, collapsing into a heap on the cold tile floor. "Unc- Mi-...!" He heard Alexandra's voice call out to him, though, it was a distant sound. His sight blurred. Sounds grew distant and echoed loudly in the background.

And all of a sudden…

Mike found himself in a dimly-lit room. A man in a yellow rabbit costume stood over him, brandishing that same awful butcher knife from his nightmares. Was he having another nightmare? That couldn't be possible! And...that bear...he's spotted the golden Freddy Fazbear suit only a couple of times throughout the past month he had worked at Freddy's.

Slowly looking around himself, he saw the animatronic character suits in a similarly slumped-over position on the floor. Blood was leaking through the felt suits and that same awful substance littered the floor. Bloodied hand prints were on the golden rabbit suit, and Mike laid paralyzed on the cold tile floor, unable to move.   
The macabre sight before him made the man feel sick to his stomach.  
A distant, echoing laugh pierced the air. It was coming from the man in the suit.  
Looking up, Mike noticed the silvery eyes of his assailant through the costume eye holes. He had never seen a golden Bonnie suit before, so, why was he dreaming all of this?

The silvery blade swung down in a flash, blurry, and too fast for his eyes to see.  
He couldn't move. He couldn't scream. All he could do was lie there, feeling helpless. Weak. Useless. Unable to do anything. It was terrible!

More images flashed before his eyes. The bodies of five dead children piled on top of each other as that same demonic, suit-wearing murderer loomed over them.  
A skull with rotting flesh peeking out through the mouth of the golden bear suit. It was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"ACK-!"

Alexandra perked up at the sound of the dry, throaty cough her uncle produced from her seat atop of a particularly sturdy storage box parked in a dusty corner of the Parts & Service room. Bonnie had noticed it, too, because he was immediately over the incapacitated night watchman, tilting his head curiously at the hacking sound followed a low groan.

You see, after Mike had collapsed, Alexandra did the best thing she could think of to help her uncle after he had suddenly collapsed in the middle of the West Hall.  
The girl had promptly ran off to find Freddy and the others for help, and Foxy had volunteered to lug the incapacitated man into the Parts & Service room, where he now laid on top of the table.  
"Uncle Mike!"  
Alexandra gasped, running over to the table where she grabbed hold of Mike's arm. "Uncle Mike? Wake up!" She pleaded, gently shaking his arm. A second quiet groan escaped past the man's thin, pale pink lips as he curled up onto his side. "Is he awake, Alex?" Bonnie asked, an ear flicking curiously as he watched Mike weakly kick out his right foot.  
"I-I dunno! I don't even know what's going on! Sh-Should I call an ambulance?"

"Methinks ye should wait 'til Ol' Cap'n Fazbear tells ye if ye should, lass."  
Foxy, an animatronic pirate-themed fox character, spoke up in his deep, rugged pirate-accented voice. Foxy appeared to be tattered and neglected in appearance, with a torn reddish felt covering and a slack jaw that just barely operated correctly.   
Upon mentioning the bear's name, Freddy stepped into the room with Chica in tow behind him. Foxy muttered underneath his breath, "Hmph. Well, speak o' the devil and he shall come."

Approaching Mike's quivering form that lay upon the table, observing the security guard and every movement he made.  
"Freddy? What's going on?" Chica asked before pausing as she caught a glimpse of Mike over Freddy's shoulder. With a quiet gasp, Chica went to shoulder her way past Freddy but was stopped as the bear put a mechanical paw in front of her, blocking her from getting any closer to Mike.

"Chica, stay back. He's waking up. I don't want to crowd him."  
"Nngh-! Ah…?" Mike tried to speak as he slowly blinked his eyes open, trying to allow them to adjust to the darkness. "God, I'm gonna puke…" he half-slurred-half-muttered to himself as he slowly propped his body up onto his elbows before lifting his head, his blood freezing as his blue-grey eyes stared back into Foxy's golden-yellow eyes. "Erm, good evenin', lad!"

"... … ...AAAAAGGHHH!!"  
Mike instinctively screamed and launched himself backwards, away from the pirate fox, landing with an audible "THUD!" as his frail-looking body crashed to the floor. "Ow! Fuck!" He hissed before backing into an empty corner. He hadn't noticed Alexandra in one of the other corners.  
"S-Stay back! All of you!" Mike's eyes scanned his environment wildly before they landed on a bare endoskeleton arm jutting out from a box of spare animatronic parts. Making a swift dive for the box, Mike had grabbed the metallic limb, holding it out in front of himself. "I~I'm warning you!"  
The man's voice shook, betraying the facade of bravery he was trying to exude.  
"Mister Schmidt, please," Freddy spoke in his deep, calming voice, "I'm going to need you to relax."

"Relax?! Are you insane?! Hell no! There's no way I'm letting my guard down around you...you...creepy robots!"  
Mike spat venomously, "You all tried to kill me! And-And took advantage of me when I passed out! You saw me lying on the floor and dragged me back here to-to kill me!" He added, gripping the endoskeleton arm with white knuckles. "F-Fuck off!"  
"Mike! Watch your language! Your niece is here!" Chica scolded the cornered security guard. "N-Niece…?"

"Uncle Mike, please! Just...relax! I told you that I wouldn't let them hurt you, remember?" The little girl had hopped off of the box to approach her uncle, gently grabbing the cool metallic limb away from Mike, taking his much larger and rather bony hand into her own, tossing the limb aside.  
"If they were really trying to hurt us, then I wouldn't be here. Right?" She tried to reason with him. Alexandra smiled up at Mike, who only sighed in return. "You...Ok, you have a point." The man admitted, rubbing his head as his migraine lingered.

"Uncle Mike? What happened back there in the hallway? We were walking, and then all of a sudden, you just...collapse! Are you feeling ok now?" The girl bombarded him with questions, grabbing onto his arm as she stared up at him with worry in her eyes.   
Mike made a pained whining noise as he then buried his face in his hands as he slid down into a sitting position in the corner of the room. "I'm f-fine! Just...just tell them to get out of here, please." He pleaded as Alexandra then let go of Mike's arm. Looking back towards the animatronics, Freddy simply nodded in response and motioned for the others to leave the room.

With Bonnie being the last to leave, the tall, bluish-purple rabbit animatronic paused in the doorway to ask, "Do you want me to close the door?"  
"No, thank you."  
Alexandra replied, watching as Bonnie then disappeared behind the corner with the others.  
The little girl sat down on her knees in front of Mike, giving her poor uncle a sad look. 

"They're gone now, Uncle Mike." She informed the shivering night watchman, who then slowly looked up to meet his niece's gaze. All of a sudden, Mike pulled his young niece into a hug, "Th-Thank God you're safe!" He uttered, eyes wide with raw, unadulterated fear. "I saw something…" he trailed off. Alexandra gave him a funny look, "You saw what, exactly?" Mike swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he did so, "I-I saw...bodies...five bodies...dead kids...all bloodied and piled up on top of each other. I-I saw the masks...and a murderer in a yellow rabbit costume."

He explained, albeit all over the place. Mike continued, "Blood was everywhere. The lights were dim and flickering...I heard the killer laugh…" he shook his head, "I'm fine though." He gave her smaller body a comforting squeeze, "You're safe and sound. That's all that matters right now."

Alexandra shook her head, "Uncle Mike? You're not 'fine'. You look like you just saw a ghost or something and you passed out for no apparent reason! Not to mention, you're having some pretty creepy dreams." She commented, squirming in his grip. "Uh, also, could you let me go, please? Your hugs are kinda tight."  
She giggled.   
Mike obliged, freeing his youthful niece from his iron grip hug with a quiet apology. Helping him stand back up, Mike also had to use the wall for assistance. The man massaged his sore lower back that had crashed to the floor after falling off of the table. He then checked his watch,

'12:05 AM', it read.

Tonight was going to be a long night. Not that that was anything new. The man had composed himself, wiping the tears out of his eyes as he took a few deep, calming breaths. 'You can get through this, Mike. You can get through this.' He thought with silent positivity.   
He then suddenly recalled watching this therapist on some TV show who was a firm believer in positive thinking. Of course, back then, he believed the therapist to be nothing more than some phony shrink who was just really into all of that weird psychobabble crap. But right now? Mike would take anything to help calm his racing mind and heart.

Walking out of the Parts & Service room, Mike scanned his dimly-lit surroundings. Good! The power was still on.  
On the not-so-positive side, however, those cuddly murder-bots were nowhere to be seen. He couldn't even hear their voices from any of the nearby rooms.   
The security guard wasn't sure if he should be glad that the robots weren't nearby or if he should be freaked out that he had lost track of them all.

Shaking his head, Mike grabbed ahold of Alexandra's hand. "Come on, Alex. We're going to my office." He stated flatly as they began their trek towards the Fazbear security office. With a shrug, Alexandra replied, "If you say so. Just try not to pass out again, ok? Uncle Mike?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was 2 AM.

More specifically, 2:25 AM. Nothing too exciting was happening. Thankfully, Freddy and his gang of fuzzy killers were leaving him alone, for the most part. Chica had dropped by for a visit, leaving a box of pizza outside of the East Hall's door. Though he wouldn't admit it, he was starving at this point. 

Like a dumbass, he had left the ham and cheese sandwich he had made for himself out in his car, and there was no way in Hell he would risk leaving the safety of his office. Plus, he would probably get a stern talking-to (though it would be more like a stern yelling-at) from the manager himself if he had dared to leave his position early without clocking out first, anyway, and Mike couldn't afford to lose this job, as much as he hated it. 

Munching on the slice of gooey, cheesy goodness in which he held in his left hand, Mike flicked through the camera feeds on the laptop with his non-greasy right hand. Chica was fumbling around in the kitchen getting into who knows what, Freddy sat on the stage alongside Bonnie, and Foxy was humming a tune to himself behind the closed curtains in Pirate's Cove.

Overall, it was a good night so far (minus the incident in which he was almost stuffed, of course!)  
"This pizza's really good, right?"  
Alexandra asked her uncle as she took the first bite out of her second slice. Mike nodded. "You can say that again." He replied upon fully chewing and swallowing the food in his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 AM came and went, as did 3 AM, 4 AM, and 5 AM as well.

The animatronics, though active, were leaving Mike alone out of pity. Well, mostly out of pity. Freddy was only leaving Mike alone for the rest of the night to further study the establishment's newest night guard. The bear was strangely fascinated by the man. 

He knew what danger he faced every time he was to enter through those doors, and yet he kept coming back, night after night for over a month now! It seemed as if this night guard was mocking them.   
The man knew how badly they wanted him dead, yet every night, he returned. If it was out of pure arrogance or not, he had no idea. But what truly fascinated Freddy was the man's personality. He didn't seem like...HIM. 

He wasn't malevolent...like HIM. He seemed friendly, though of course, it could all just be a ploy to get them to lower their guard around the girl. But Freddy had sworn an oath to protect that girl from the bad man.

But...was this night guard truly bad?

Freddy shook his head, the mechanical joints in his endoskeleton's neck whined softly, allowing stiff, limited motion.   
Of course he was! 'All adults are the same.' Freddy and the others all believed. And it was true! All grown-up's, it seemed, were evil.   
After all, grown-up's steal, and kill, and are always mean to each other, usually for stupid reasons, nonetheless. Grown-up's started meaningless wars and argued all the time and they did very horrible things to each other. 

Grown-up's always said that hitting was wrong, but he vaguely recalled seeing it every night after school.

...He went to school, right? Freddy, no...

Was that his name?  
Or was it…?

No. It's Freddy. It has always been Freddy, right?

His memories had grown fuzzy over the years. He could barely remember the life he had lived beyond those two, horrible glass doors at the entrance.

Had he lived outside of those two front doors? He couldn't remember.

All that he could remember was the jolly yellow rabbit and the mouthwatering scent of pizza mingling with the sugary sweet birthday cake that lingered in the air.

All he could remember was the blood, and the dastardly grin of the bad man that stood over him, holding a bloodied knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A/N: I apologize for the lack of an update. This chapter was not my favorite one to write and not much really happened here (sorry!). Writer's Block SUCKS! DX  
> Anyway, I'm still sort of new to AO3's formatting (?) system and I'm just putting this here as a sort of test chapter note. Anyway, I hope you're all enjoying the fic so far! There's more to come. And hopefully, I'll stay motivated to write. Remember to kudos and/or comment! See ya!))


	6. Ch. 5: Just A Rumor

It was 5:48 AM.

Stef was up and about already, brushing her long, messy locks of strawberry blonde hair. Her dark chocolate-colored eyes had been caked by morning eye goop which she had promptly washed away by splashing warm water on her face. Drying her face, the woman had slipped on her Freddy Fazbear work uniform, something that all of the day shift personnel had to wear.  
Black plain-front pants, a purple short-sleeved shirt, and glossy black shoes along with a white plastic pin tag featuring her first name and the generic slogan of 'Where Fantasy & Fun Come to Life!'

The woman stood in front of her bedroom mirror as she tied her hair back in a loose ponytail. She had volunteered yesterday afternoon to come in early the next morning to set up all of the Christmas decorations in preparation of the upcoming holiday, thus, she got to leave early in preparation for getting up early this morning.  
Something of which she was definitely not used to.  
"All right," she muttered to herself, finished tying back her hair. Placing her hands on both hips, she smiled at her own reflection, "looking good!" She complimented herself before looking over to her bedroom door as it opened.

A tired young boy around age twelve poked his head into the room, "Mom…?" He asked, rubbing his tired mocha-brown eyes. "Why're you up so early? My bus doesn't come until 7:12." The boy, named Levi, stated. Stef smiled at her young son, taking a seat on her bed. "Oh, honey," she crooned, smiling when the boy, still in his pajamas, joined her.  
Leaning into her side, Stef curled an arm around her only child, a tired smile on her face, "you know you didn't have to drag yourself out of bed so early. You have an alarm clock to wake you up."  
She reminded her son.

Levi shrugged, "I just wanted-" he yawned first, then continued, "to see...what you were doing up. I heard you in the kitchen and I smelled bacon." He replied.  
Stef then leaned over to press a kiss to her son's head, ruffling his smooth, soft brown hair that was barely touching the tops of his shoulders with a hand. "All right, well, there's bacon in the kitchen and I've made you some toast.  
Orange juice is in the fridge and-OH! I made eggs, too. Scrambled." She informed him, standing up to observe her appearance once more.  
Grabbing a bottle of perfume (Soft Rosebud-scented), she spritzed herself once, twice, and a third time.

Levi couldn't help but to crinkle his small, freckled nose as he smoothed out his hair. It wasn't that he hated the scent of his mother's perfume, but rather, it always tickled his nose. Managing to sniff back what would have been a sneeze, the boy simply followed his mother as she made her way out of her bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having situated her son, Stef made her way to her car, strapping the seatbelt in as she pulled out of her driveway to make her way to Freddy's. Turning the radio on, Stef couldn't help but to smile and sing along to 'Everything Changes' by Kathy Troccoli, a song that she frequently reminisced upon as it was the song that both her and her late husband had danced to at their wedding.

"Well you came in my life like a ray of light  
Shining through the clouds in my heart  
I just looked at you and the world was new  
It was right, right from the start~

Whoa oh oh oh you came to me  
Whoa oh oh oh with a love so sweet  
And I'll never never never  
Be the same~"

The woman was halfway to her place of work when she had decided to make a quick detour to a gas station where she had purchased two cups of coffee, grabbing a couple of packets of sugar and a few small creamer cups, deciding to get a cup for the friendly night guard that she always saw smoking in front of the building.  
Though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, she found him to be cute.  
Sure, he wasn't exactly David Hasselhoff or Nick Nolte, but he seemed nice enough. He always made an effort to greet her every morning she showed up, and she had found herself drawn even closer to the younger man after that one morning.

The night watchman, what was his name?  
Mike? Yeah, that's it! Mike seemed to be a friendly guy. A bit clumsy? Sure. Awkward? Yeah, but definitely approachable.  
The woman had zoned out of the music playing on the radio, though she was still vaguely listening as she continued her drive to work. Rounding a corner, she was nearly to her destination. Finishing the glazed donut she had purchased for herself as a light breakfast, she pulled into the pizzeria parking lot.  
And, like clockwork, Mike was outside smoking a cigarette, with his energetic little niece chasing a butterfly up and down the sidewalk.

Stef smiled, 'Cute kid.'

She checked the digital clock in her car,  
'6:05 AM' it read. Good, she was five minutes earlier than usual. That should be plenty of time before everyone starts to show up!  
Parking her car, the woman opened her door and stepped out, throwing a loose black coat over her shoulders before reaching in to grab both cups of coffee.  
Locking her car and closing the door, the woman began her walk up to the restaurant's front entrance.  
The sun had yet to rise above the horizon, so it was still relatively dark outside. Her brown coat blew loosely in the cold morning breeze, and a blanket of pure white snow covered the ground.

"Good morning, Mike."  
Stef greeted her newfound acquaintance with a kind smile, "How was your shift?"  
"Uh, hey, Stef." Mike replied, continuing, "My-? Oh! My shift! It was…uh, uneventful." He partially-lied. Every night at Freddy Fazbear's was eventful in one way or another. The place was haunted! Or so the rumors say. Usually, Mike wasn't one to believe in such silliness, but considering how human the animatronics seemed to act during the nighttime hours…

"Oh? Well, I'm...I'm sorry to hear that." She then paused upon realizing how weird that sounded, "Uh, n-not that I want you to ever experience something like a break-in, of course! I meant that I felt bad because working the graveyard shift over here sounds pretty boring." She quickly stated before awkwardly clearing her throat. Mike shifted slightly, biting his lip as he dug around his jacket pocket to grab the pack of cigarettes, offering the opened box to her,  
"Want one?"

"No, thank you. I, uh, I don't smoke. So…"  
Stef trailed off, not really knowing what else to say in order to break this horribly awkward tension in the cold December air.  
"Coffee?" Stef asked, offering him one of the hot beverages in her hands.  
Mike stared at the beverage in her outstretched hand for about half a second before taking her up on the offer, taking the warm paper cup from her grasp, cigarette clenched lightly between his teeth.  
"Thanks." Was all Mike could muster, but he realized that he should probably say a little more than just 'thanks' to this lady who was trying to be his friend.

"I-I really appreciate the gesture."  
Mike added, stuffing his cigarette box back into his jacket pocket along with his hand before withdrawing the limb to hold the cigarette between two fingers.  
Blowing out a puff of the foul-smelling smoke mixed with Mike's warm breath, the two mingled to create a grey puffy cloud that was whisked away rather quickly by the wind.

With an involuntary shudder, Stef took a sip of her own cup of coffee, looking at Mike with a red-tinted face when she realized that he had noticed. "It's pretty cold out here." He commented, adding, "Would you like to go inside?"  
Stef shook her head 'no', "No, I'm fine."  
"Are you sure?"  
Mike asked. Stef only repeated herself, "Yeah. I'm fine." She replied, leaning against the wall beside the night watchman. The two sipped their coffee (and, in Mike's case, smoked) in relative silence with only a handful of words being exchanged between the two.  
"...Is she yours?"

"Pardon?" Mike replied.

"The little girl, is she yours?"  
Stef repeated, looking towards the guard with blue eyes.

"Ah, sort of."  
Mike answered.

Stef couldn't resist a snort of amusement, "Sort of? What's that supposed to mean? She's either yours or she isn't."

Mike laughed awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck, his tired blue eyes avoiding her brown ones. "She's my niece."

Mentally kicking herself for forgetting that simple detail, Stef remembered talking to the little girl that one day.

'W-Well...my uncle is the night watchman and I kind of snuck along to keep him company…'

The little girl had said to her. 

"Oh! That's right, heh. I must have forgotten that little tidbit of information." Stef chuckled sheepishly, feeling super embarrassed to have had a brain fart right then and there.  
Mike only returned her words with a soft chuckle of his own,  
"No worries. We all make little mistakes sometimes."  
Taking another drag off of his cigarette, the night watchman exhaled the toxic smoke.  
It was then when Stef was hit hard by a bright idea.

"Hey, Mike? I had to come a little earlier than usual to set up the restaurant's Christmas decorations. There's only a few days left until Christmas, and the boss man wanted the decorations strung up. So," she paused, "would you help me set up these decorations? I-I know that you're probably exhausted and just want to go to bed, and I understand-"

"-Hey, Stef, it's fine. I can help out. I work here too, you know." Mike replied, dropping his cigarette before stomping on it with a foot crunching in the mushy snow, smiling at her.  
"Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I-Is this far enough~?"  
Mike called down to Stef from his position on the topmost rung of the extension ladder, body stretching dangerously far to the right as he pinned the other end of a string of bushy and shiny red tinsel to the top of the wall of the Dining Area.  
Mike was clinging with one arm to the ladder as if his life depended on it. If there was one thing he feared more than the animatronics, it was heights.

How did he get himself into this position? By being a nice guy and offering to hang the tinsel on the wall for Stef despite his fear of heights.

"Just a hair more to the right, then you're done!"  
Stef called back.

'More to the right.' Mike thought with silent cynicism. Of course! It wasn't as if he was barely keeping his balance on this rickety old ladder already or anything!  
"Come on Uncle Mike! Just a little more!" Alexandra piped up from beside Stef.

And of course Alexandra has to join in on the sadistic fun of watching her poor uncle suppress his fear of heights to hang Christmas decorations!

Reaching out just a little more to the right, Mike paused when Stef hollered a quick "and...stop!" up to him.

He felt like Stretch Armstrong at this point!

And, of course, Mike, having been stretched to his limits, had lost his balance and took a good fall from the top of the ladder with a loud (but totally manly) scream of surprise followed by an audible "THUD!" on the floor. Staring up at the ceiling from his view on the cool tiled floor, Mike huffed.

Were the walls ALWAYS that tall?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thankfully, no more ladders were required for hanging decorations on an artificial Christmas tree. Mike was in charge of stringing up the lights while Stef did the silver tinsel, and Alexandra hung up the little colorful ornaments.  
"Uncle Mike still doesn't have a Christmas tree!"

"Really?"  
Stef replied, over-exaggerating a shocked expression, making Alexandra giggle.  
"Yup!" The little girl replied,  
"He says that he's broke, so that's why he can't afford one."

"Alex, come on. You don't need to be telling people that I'm broke."  
Mike replied, hiding behind the back of the tree, swearing under his breath as he tried to untangle the lights. "Tch! Stupid little cheap-!"  
"But it's true! My Mama says that you only get paid $120.00 at the end of each week."

"Wait, really?!"  
Stef replied, now with a look of genuine shock upon her face. "$120.00 WEEKLY?! Is that even legal-?"

"If it's not, I can call my daddy to threaten the manager with a lawsuit!"

"-That won't be necessary, Alex!"  
Mike quickly spoke up as he peeked out from behind the tree, not wanting either Alex or Stef getting him in trouble with the manager. The LAST thing he needed was to be fired from his job this close to a holiday!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three were still setting up decorations as the sun peeked over the horizon, shining bright orange rays into the building through the glass windows. Mike was actually quite surprised by how colorful the place was. He was only used to seeing this place covered by darkness and shadows; a creepy sort of atmosphere. Of course, Mike had figured that the place was bright and colorful during the day, but it was just so...different! Especially since he was seeing it all in-person.

Other day shift employees had begun to trickle in. "That's Joey. Joey Atkins." Stef explained, nodding towards a man who was younger than Mike with shaggy blonde hair, brown beard stubble on his chin, sparse black eyebrows, a lip piercing, and strange-looking green eyes.  
"Twenty-two years old and fresh out of college with a useless degree in anthropology, he's a total pothead, but he's nice enough. Just don't go into the Supply Closet after he's done using it. Oh! He's also the cashier." She explained to the night watchman. 'Well, that explains the lingering pot smell.' 

He thought silently. It was strange. Mike had worked here for over a month and yet he still knew little to nothing about the other employees. Of course, he worked the loneliest shift, so it did make sense as to why he knew so little about his fellow coworkers.

Two more men walked in after Joey. One was tall, brawny, and had dark brown hair styled in a buzz cut. He was pale white, not in a sickly manner. But it was clear that he was of European descent in some way. He, along with the shorter but skinny black-haired man that walked beside him, both gave Stef either a nod of acknowledgement or a friendly smile and wave, respectively.

"The tall one is Simon. Simon Smirnov. Thirty-five years old, he's an immigrant from the old USSR. He's worked for the establishment as a chef for five years now. He looks intimidating, but once you get to know him, he's really a cool guy." Stef informed Mike before continuing,  
"The shorter one beside him is Oscar. Oscar Bryant. Twenty-eight years old, he started right after you did." Stef stated. Mike nodded as he continued stringing up the lights, "Is that so?"

"Yep. He's also a chef, same as Simon. Those two are as thick as thieves! Inseparable. They hit it off immediately. It shocked quite a few of us that work the day shift, myself included, since Simon takes a while to warm up to others." She added,  
"Oscar used to work as a fast food restaurant chef, but left for somewhat better pay here at Freddy's."  
Mike nodded at her words. "All right. Anyone else?"

"Hmm, well, there's Chelsea, Emmet, and Darrel. They're some of the other waiters that I know personally. Emmet is the newest addition in that department. Darrel has worked as a waiter since '85, so, he's been with us for a while."  
Stef added, helping Alexandra hang up the other ornaments on the artificial Christmas tree.  
"I've only worked here for two years." She added, "I used to work as a waitress for some little café out in Burbank a few years back. I actually moved here three years ago." She informed Mike, who glanced towards her, "So, you're also a waitress here?"

"Yep!" Stef replied, smiling at Mike as the three stepped back to observe their work.  
Flipping the switch, the tree lights lit up brightly. It was a miracle that they all still worked. "It's so pretty! Even if it is a fake tree." Alexandra smiled, only to look over her shoulder when she heard footsteps approaching the three from behind.  
"Oi! Schmidt! My office, now!" The taller man snapped harshly at the shorter night guard.

Mike's stomach dropped and his eyes widened at the sound of his surname having left his manager's mouth. And he sounded angry.

Alexandra gasped and hid behind Mike as the manager gave her a look.  
"And leave the kid out 'ere. Just you an' me, Schmidt." He added in a somewhat more gentle but equally firm tone.  
Mike sighed, having a gut feeling what this was all about. "Hey, Alex? Why don't…why don't you hang out with Miss Conway for a bit?" He asked the girl, squatting at her height. "I'll be back. My boss just needs to talk to me, ok?"

"If you say so."  
Alexandra replied. Mike then stood up with a nod towards Stef before following Trevor to his cramped little office near the front entrance of the Dining Area.  
Stef smiled at the girl, "Hey, why don't I buy you some Faz-Tokens so you can play some of the games? You like skee ball, right?"  
Alexandra shrugged, "I'm not really that good at it." Stef placed a hand on her hip as she thought silently to herself, getting a sudden idea. "What if I showed you how to play better? I know a few techniques." She offered with a warm smile. Alexandra gasped, "Really? You can teach me?"

"I don't see why not."  
Stef replied, walking over towards the skee ball machines. Ecstatic, Alexandra followed the waitress to the aforementioned machines.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You've got an awful lot of nerve for pulling this little 'stunt' with me, Schmidt!"  
Trevor fumed, glaring at a fearful Mike who sat limply in the chair right in front of him. The night watchman's heart was throbbing painfully against his ribs, eyes wide with fear. What had he done wrong?  
Swallowing nervously, Mike opened his mouth to speak, though promptly closed it shut as Trevor interrupted him.

"You, of all people, should know better than to bring a CHILD to your shift!"

Oh. So THAT'S why he's in trouble.  
Mike cleared his throat awkwardly, anxiously fiddling with his shirt collar.  
"S-Sir, with all due respect, that kid is my niece. And she's only nine years old. I-I can't just leave her at my house unattended."  
He replied meekly, hoping that Trevor wouldn't go full-throttle ballistic on his ass.  
"Tch! Your niece is little more than a liability in the making!" He spat, narrowing his ever-intensifying glare at Mike, who felt smaller and smaller by the second.  
Trevor leaned over his desk,

"Tell me, Schmidt," he began, "How long have you been workin' 'ere?"

"O-Over a month now, sir."

"And, during the past month, what have you noticed every time you start your shift?"

Mike was silent. He had better tread carefully with his response.  
"The-The animatronics…?"

"Mmhmm, and, tell me, what do those robots do every single night?"

Mike swallowed, "Walk around…?"

"And-?"

Mike paused. God, why was Trevor like this?

"They...Uh, they'll stuff…anyone they see after hours?"  
Mike replied slowly.

"EXACTLY!"  
Trevor suddenly shouted, slamming a hand down onto his desk, rattling everything that was on it. Mike jumped back into his seat, leaning away from his enraged manager.  
"You're such an IDIOT, Mike!" He spat venomously.

"Sir! I-I'm sorry-!"  
Mike tried to apologize, but was silenced by yet another outburst of raw anger.  
"You think some wimpy 'sorry' is gonna cut it when I get a fresh batch of lawyers bulldogging MY throat when that little girl gets stuffed?! Damn it, Mike! I can't afford lawsuit after lawsuit! This place is already going through enough hell with the damn Health Department riding on my ass!" He snarled, rage burning in his eyes as he suddenly seized Mike by his uniform collar, yanking him close. Mike squinted and grit his teeth out of fear.

"Now, you listen, and listen good, Schmidt!  
That kid is FORBIDDEN to accompany you to your shift from here on out! And if I find out that you're sneaking her in behind my back, you're fired. Capeesh?"  
Trevor questioned, giving the night guard a firm shake to the shirt collar. Mike frantically nodded in reply, "Y-Yes sir! Understood! Loud and clear!" He forced out an answer rather quickly. Visibly relaxing, Trevor released Mike and dismissed him, "Good. Now, get out."  
Upon dismissal, Mike quickly turned tail and hauled ass out of the office, not even sparing a glance back towards Trevor.

Upon exiting and promptly closing the door behind him, Mike placed a shaking bony hand over his rapidly-beating heart while taking deep breaths to calm it; his back leaning against the wall as he exhaled a shaky breath.  
With his stomach twisted up in knots, the man didn't feel like eating at the moment.

Why was his manager such a jackass? He had no idea!

However, as he was leaning against the wall, Mike couldn't help but to take notice of a particular day shift employee. A man older than himself. He was tall, and his uniform didn't seem to fit him. He was sallow and thin, with his skin sagging in appearance. His eyes appeared as if they were made of glass; being dead, and pale, silvery in their appearance.  
A mop of brown hair lay upon his head, and he had a cleft chin (though this was generally unnoticeable if one were to only glance at him). However, what really threw Mike off was the older man's smile. His teeth were yellowed (but not horribly so), and Mike even took notice of an apparent chip in the man's tooth (much like his own, except the older man's was far more prominent).

Another thing Mike took notice of was the man watching Alexandra playing with Stef at the skee ball machines.  
A tingling sensation prickled it's way up through Mike's spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.  
For whatever reason, this particular day shift employee gave him the creeps.  
Mike shook his head, 'C'mon, Mike!' He thought silently to himself, 'Of course he's watching Alex! He's a day shift employee! It's his job to watch over the younger visitors of the restaurant!' He tried to reassure himself, though failed to fully convince himself that this guy WASN'T a creep in some way.

Unfortunately for Mike, the creepy day shift employee took notice of him staring.  
'Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!' Mike silently panicked as he watched the creepy employee approach him. "Is there a problem, Mister Security Guard?" He questioned Mike, smoothly in a low, raspy, but just-barely noticeable British-accented voice.  
Mike took a few seconds to process the question he was just asked,  
"U-Uh, no! Not at all." Mike hurriedly replied, stuffing his hands into his pant pockets, his jacket slung loosely over his shoulders.

"Is that so?"  
The creepy employee asked before grinning that horrible grin,  
"You know, Mister Security Guard, it isn't very polite to stare at people."

"You've got it all wrong! Uh, I was just...zoning out. That's it! I wasn't staring at *YOU* per se, but...um..."  
Mike lied, trailing off.  
The creepy security guard couldn't resist a chuckle. At this distance, the night watchman could make out various faint scars covering the man's throat and the rest of his neck.  
"You have a name?" The creepy employee asked.

"Mike. Mike Schmidt."  
Mike replied. The creepy employee's grin faltered slightly, and, for a terrifying moment, he thought that he had somehow upset the older man. "Mike, huh?" He asked. Mike nodded, "Yup. Just 'Mike'."

"I had a boy named 'Michael'. I...I always called him 'Mike' for short." He replied, shaking his head as his grin fell, replaced by a tight-lipped smile. "Anyway, the name's Dave. Dave Miller." The creepy employee, Dave, replied, holding out a hand to shake.  
Mike cautiously returned the handshake. His warmer hand was immediately cooled by Dave's colder touch.

Maybe this 'Dave' guy wasn't so bad, after all?

No.

That...that feeling just wouldn't go away.  
For a moment, Mike could have sworn that he had caught Freddy staring at them both out of his peripheral vision.  
His eyes must be playing tricks on him.  
"Uncle Mike!"  
Alexandra called out to him as she ran over to both men, both hands gripping long strands of tickets as Stef trailed behind. "Look at how many tickets I got!"

Mike went to respond, but Dave beat him to it. "Wow!" Dave exclaimed, squatting down to her height, "That's an awful lot of tickets you've got there, kid. How many did you win?" He asked. If he was feigning curiosity, he was pretty damn good at it.  
"Miss Conway and I counted one hundred and twenty! That's a lot, right?" Alexandra replied, beaming with pride as she presented Dave with the tickets.

"Yup! One hundred and twenty." Stef confirmed, "Man, she's a quick learner, Mike! She was doing better than me in a few short minutes! And that's coming from the QUEEN of skee ball!" She exclaimed.

"One hundred and twenty…" Dave trailed off, placing a hand to his chin in thought,  
"You know, that's just enough tickets for a big plush toy…"  
Alexandra's grin grew even bigger, she then turned to Mike, who was watching the interaction between Alexandra and Dave closely, "Can I please get a big toy? Pleeease, Uncle Mikey?"

"All right. But be quick! I need to get to…" Mike covered a sudden yawn that worked its way up his throat, "bed...soon."  
He finished slowly, tiredly. Mike was exhausted. And he just wanted to go to bed.  
He had finished his coffee earlier, and the caffeine wasn't enough to keep him going.  
Stef chuckled as she watched Alexandra follow Dave to the prize corner to exchange her tickets for a big plush prize.

Mike gave Stef a tired smile,  
"Thanks for the coffee from earlier." He thanked her. Stef only smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Don't mention it. You seem pretty tired." She commented. Mike glanced at his watch.

'7:15 AM' it read.

"Think you can make it home ok?"  
She asked him, "I don't want to see my new friend on the six o'clock news in a car accident." She stated.  
Mike only nodded in return with a quiet, 'Yeah.'

"Hey, Stef?" Mike suddenly asked after a few minutes of silence as he watched Alexandra hug the oversized Bonnie plush that Dave had retrieved for her close to herself.  
"Who...Who was that guy?"

"Who? Dave?" She asked Mike,  
"Dave is...well," she sighed, "nobody really knows that much about him. And he doesn't really talk all that much about his past, either. He's pretty quiet, and he keeps to himself most of the time." She added, watching as Dave and Alexandra made their way back towards Mike and Stef. 

Mike made a face indicating that he was deep in thought. 'So,' He wondered, 'this 'Dave' guy is a pretty mysterious individual.' He was pulled out of his thoughts when Alexandra suddenly pushed a big, soft Bonnie plush into his arms.  
"Look at what Mister Dave got for me, Uncle Mike!" Mike's eyes met the artificial eyes of the plush toy. The little round pieces of plastic stared back at him with cartoonish excitement.

Dave crossed both arms over his chest as he looked towards Mike, "She's a sweet little girl." He commented. Mike subconsciously gripped the plush tighter in his arm.  
That same, horrible lingering feeling returned.

This 'Dave' guy seemed 'off' somehow.

Mike didn't know why he felt what he felt, call it a gut feeling. Dave meant trouble.  
"She's turning ten in a few days, eh?" Dave continued, "That's a pretty big deal. You ARE throwing her a party here at Freddy's, right? Mike?" Mike stiffened when Dave had said this. "How did you-?"

"Hmm-? Oh, little Alex, here, told me so. Isn't that right, Alex?"  
Dave asked the little girl, who seemed perfectly at ease with this creep around. "That's right! I'm turning ten in a few more days!"  
"The big one-O." Dave added, smiling at Mike.  
"Well, I suppose I shouldn't be keeping you any longer. After all," the older male took a step towards Mike, with the night watchman pinning himself against the wall,  
"A night watchman needs his sleep. Those animatronics probably, let's say, 'keep you on your toes', isn't that right?"

"?!-N-No! They're...uh, the animatronics don't do anything at night. Just, uh, have to keep an eye out for those teen-aged hoodlums or crooks!" Mike forced out a reply, smiling nervously.  
'How does he know?!' The security guard thought silently to himself. Dave's smile fell at Mike's response, and he gave the younger man a questioning look only to back away, smiling once again as if nothing happened. "That's good to hear. I wish you luck for many years to come, Mike. I'm sure it isn't easy having to work such an awfully...lonely shift during the night." He chuckled, "In fact, I've even heard rumors that this place is, allegedly, haunted."

"Oh! Yeah! I nearly forgot about that!"  
Stef laughed, "I seriously doubt that it's true, though. The ghost part was probably made up by some frightened parent to keep other families away from the restaurant after the string of murders that took place at an older Freddy's location years ago." Stef then sighed, "Heck, I wouldn't blame the parents for doing such a thing."

Mike only gave the two a curiously disturbed look. "Haunted?" Mike repeated. "Murders?!" Alexandra gasped.  
Dave nodded, "Indeed. Haunted by the spirits of the victims of the Five Missing Children Incident." Alexandra gasped and hugged Mike by his waist, her eyes wide and fearful. "Missing children-?" The girl whimpered, fearful of such grim news.

"Yeah. Back in 1985, five kids were lured into a back room of the old location and murdered by an employee. That restaurant lasted only two more years before it shut down in 1987. A whole lot of awful stuff occurred back then, even before the child murders, but everyone believes that The Bite of '83 was the incident that sealed that old place's fate." Stef explained, shaking her head as she rested a hand on her hip. She didn't even take notice of Dave's breath hitching when she mentioned The Bite of '83.

"Uncle Mike? I-I'm scared! What if the murderer tries to get me?" Alexandra whimpered, burying her face into her uncle's side.  
Stef only smiled reassuringly,  
"No need to worry, Alex! Trevor's been really careful about the safety of the kids here at Freddy's. He wants to make sure nobody else gets hurt!" She added before suddenly embracing Mike and the big Bonnie plush. By this point, Mike had noticed that Dave had seemingly vanished into thin air. Nowhere to be seen. 'Weird.' Thought the night guard.

"Anyway, thanks for helping me out, Mike! I really appreciate it. I just need to roll out the festive plastic tablecloths and put a Santa hat on Freddy, and we'll be all set!" She grinned excitedly, giving Mike a thumbs up.  
Mike had returned her hug before letting go of her first. "No problem! Glad I could help."

"All right, I'll see you later-OH! Mike!"  
Stef went to say goodbye, but had remembered something that she needed to tell Mike,  
"There's going to be a Christmas party for the staff here. It's being held at 9:00 PM on the twenty-third." She offered, handing him a printed letter from Trevor that read as follows…

'Dear Valued Members of the Fazbear Family, come join your fellow coworkers and their families for a night of festive fun on December 23rd from 9:00 PM to 10:30 PM here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza!  
✔Food And Beverages!  
✔Games!  
✔Music!  
✔Karaoke!

Come on down to celebrate the holidays with us!'

"Huh. Ok. I'll come! Uh, are-are you coming?" Mike asked her. Stef gave him a look, "Well, duh! Of course I am!" She laughed, playfully punching Mike's shoulder. "You're such a dork, Mike! Cute, but a dork."  
Mike blushed as red as Foxy at that statement, rubbing his shoulder gingerly. "Ah-! Uh, y-you think...so?"

"Yep! I know so." She giggled. "Anyways, I'll see you later!" Stef called to Mike, waving as she was called over by Darrel to help sanitize the serving trays for the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"She thinks I'm cute~!"

"Uncle Mike, I know! You said that a hundred times already!"

"She thinks I'm cute~!  
She really thinks that I'm cute~! Haha! Yes!"

"Ugh. Are you just gonna keep repeating that all the way home!?"  
Alexandra complained, looking in the rear-view mirror at the giant Bonnie plush that sat in the back seat of Mike's car.  
"I can't believe it! She really thinks that I, Mike Elijah Schmidt, am cute!" Mike grinned as he drove, practically on cloud nine at the moment.  
Stopping at a red stop sign, the bold white lettering demanded his attention.  
However, the night watchman hardly paid it any mind as then continued driving after a white sedan drove past in front of him.  
Alexandra only rolled her eyes with a huff,

"Grown-ups are so weird." She mumbled to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A/N: Hey everybody! I just want to say both thank you for reading Five Nights at Freddy's: Sins of The Past and...Happy Fnaf 1 Paycheck Day! As of the posting of this chapter, it is November 12th, the specific month and day on Mike's paycheck! I wanted to post this chapter specifically for today just to celebrate, and so, there it is! XD
> 
> Remember to stay safe out there, y'all! And stay tuned for future chapters! :D))


	7. Ch. 6: Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A/N: The Five Nights at Freddy's movie release date (Well, at least, the release year) has been dropped! 2022! ... ... ... Why does it have to be two years from now!? T_T Oh well. At least Scott is putting a lot of effort into his first-ever theatrically-released movie! Hopefully, some theaters would have survived the pandemic to watch it in. Anyway, on with the chapter!))

((12:30 AM.))

Mike sighed as he plopped himself down into his swivel chair. The guard was thankful that Stef had kindly volunteered to take little Alexandra for the night so that he wouldn't be fired for bringing her in when he wasn't supposed to.  
It was, once again, a quiet night.  
12:30 and no sign of movement from any of the animatronics.  
Deciding to shut off the security monitoring system for a while, Mike found himself yawning. 

It was still early in his shift and the animatronics seemingly lost interest in hunting him after meeting them up-close and personal. The guard sighed, bored beyond comprehension.

He had taken Alexandra's company for granted, that's for certain.

The night watchman had already found himself missing the curious questions, the requests, the pleading, hell! Even the whining! Resting his chin in a hand being propped up by his elbow resting on the desk, Mike allowed his blue eyes to slowly drift shut in the small breeze being generated by that noisy little fan on his desk. He began to slowly drift into a sleepy subconscious state...

"He-he-he~!"

The night watchman's eyes snapped open and he was fully alert that very second.  
He paused, listening intently.  
He could have sworn he had heard a child giggling. Or...could it have just been an auditory hallucination? Perhaps his imagination? Mike was unsure.  
The guard had listened for a few more seconds.

Silence.

Mike shook his head, returning to the position he was in. He rested his chin in a hand, elbow propped up on the desk in front of the noisy fan. He closed his eyes once more, slowly drifting back into a sleepy, half-awake and half-asleep state when,

"He-he-he~!"

There it was again!  
Mike sighed, grabbing the flashlight that rested beside his arm on the desk.  
Giving it a couple of sharp smacks with his hand, he flicked on the switch and stood up, walking to the right doorway that led into the East Hall; the source of the eerie laughter. Holding up the bright flashlight, Mike peered down the hall.

Nothing was there.

Mike grumbled a couple of curses under his breath, taking a few steps out into the empty hallway. "Tch. Damn hoodlums-"

"CRASH!"

Mike had practically jumped out of his skin when a sudden, loud crash came from within the security office.  
Rushing back to see what had occurred, Mike's eyes widened in shock.  
The security laptop lay on the floor; the screen shattered. The broken glass shards littered the little office floor.  
"What the hell-?" The guard raised a brow, flicking off the flashlight, swearing to himself once more as he ran a hand over his face.  
"Aw, fuck! Trevor's gonna skin me alive for this!" The guard groaned, kneeling on the floor to assess the damage.

Carefully picking up the laptop, Mike took in the appearance of the cracked and shattered screen, missing keys, and the computer's inability to turn on again. 'Great.'  
Sighing, the guard went to place the now broken machine back on his desk.  
Upon picking himself up off of the floor, however, Mike had turned on his heels, only to shout in alarm, dropping the clunky laptop to the floor once again out of shock when he took notice of a child standing in the East Hall doorway.

A child, a boy, that wasn't there before.

Moreover, this was unlike any child that Mike had ever seen.  
The child's skin was a pale, translucent grey color. His clothes consisted of a darker gray T-shirt with matching shorts and shoes. The kid had shaggy darker grey hair that fell to the tops of his shoulders, though it was lighter than his clothes. Mike, paralyzed by an overwhelming fear, could only manage to stare at the ghost boy.

The ghost boy gave Mike a curious look before speaking. He spoke with a soft voice, "Why are you so afraid?"  
Mike found himself unable to even form a coherent sentence in his head. The ghost boy closed his eyes, smiling an empty black smile the same color as his pure black eyes. "He-he-he~!" The boy giggled once more, then disappeared down the East Hall.  
"Come find me, Mister Guard!" the ghastly voice echoed down the hall; a quiet giggle following seconds later.

Recovering from his stunned stupor, Mike quickly flicked on his flashlight; his heart thrumming rapidly in his chest. "Sweet mercy, this cannot be happening-!"  
He whimpered to himself in a fretful manner, gripping the flashlight with white knuckles as he cautiously snuck outside into the East Hall.  
The night guard shone the flashlight all around himself, swallowing some saliva out of sheer nervousness. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on their ends, and the guard paused.

There was a presence in the hallway.

And it radiated pure hatred.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't believe you."  
Levi huffed, lying in his bed, staring up at his bedroom ceiling. "The robots coming to life at night? That sounds made-up. I'm not so dumb to fall for something like that, you know, but nice try." The older boy laughed.  
Alexandra only scowled, "But-But it's true! I'm not making it up!" She argued stubbornly,  
"My uncle saw it with his own two eyes! He says that they came to life even before I was there! And it's true! They do come off the stage and walk around!"

Levi resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  
"Please. I'm sure he told you that because you're just a little girl. And little girls are always easy to scare. I think he was playing a prank on you, and you just fell for it. Hard." He replied, snickering. "What next? Do you believe that the restaurant is /actually/ haunted by spooky ghosts?" He teased. Alexandra only stuck out her tongue, "You're so mean!" She huffed.  
"Hey, I'm just saying." Levi replied, looking at the younger girl that laid on the lower bunk of his bunk bed. "Don't believe any of that stuff. It's all just a bunch of stories that adults make up to scare kids like us into following rules." He explained. 

Alexandra looked up at him from the bottom bunk, "Levi?"

"Yeah?"

"...Were five kids actually killed at Freddy's?"  
She whimpered.

"Oh, yeah. My Mom has an old newspaper article about it somewhere in storage." He replied bluntly. Alexandra shifted underneath the blankets uncomfortably, "Did they catch the guy who did it?" She asked.  
Levi huffed, "Do you always ask a lot of questions?" He replied. Alexandra frowned. Levi then sighed, rolling over onto his side, "Sorry." He muttered apologetically. He didn't mean to sound rude. The boy mulled over his thoughts before replying,  
"I dunno. I don't think the suspect was ever charged. So, maybe?"

Alexandra rolled over onto her side, closing her eyes as she hugged the blanket close to herself. "I hope so. That bad man deserves to be in jail for what he did." The little girl sighed. Levi slowly sat up in the top bunk, leaning over the side to look down at her.  
"Relax, Alexandra. I'm pretty sure that the guy who did it left town years ago. What reason would he have to return to the scene of his crimes?"  
Alexandra looked back up at him with her large, round, youthful eyes.  
"You have a point," she then closed her eyes once again, "I guess."

Levi resisted the urge to laugh, laying back down, closing his eyes to go to sleep.  
"Whatever, weirdo. Goodnight."  
Alexandra smiled and replied, "Goodnight. Oh, and Levi? It's just 'Alex'." She replied, giggling as she buried her face into her pillow, hugging her favorite Chica plush while her new jumbo Bonnie plush lay sprawled out on the bedroom floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike slowly turned on the balls of his feet, gasping in surprise when he came face to face with that horrible golden bear from his nightmares. It's white, pinprick pupils bore holes into his very soul as the golden Freddy animatronic sat slumped over in front of the East Hall office entrance.  
The migraine Mike had experienced from before returned with a vengeance, and the guard had dropped his flashlight as the skull-shattering headache returned, only this time, tenfold.  
The flashlight had flickered out upon colliding with the tile floor, and Mike was brought to his knees, gripping his head with both hands.

With ringing ears and blurred vision, the discombobulated night watchman could still make out the image of the empty golden Freddy suit, albeit, seeing double.  
His head felt stuffy, and his legs weak. With cold and clammy skin, the tips of Mike's fingers dug into his own scalp. His nails ripping into the flesh hard enough to draw fresh blood. Mike was curled up on the floor, on his knees, having keeled over.

"MURDERER!"

The supernatural animatronic shouted telepathically to him, the headache now creating a pounding sensation that resonated within the cavity of his skull.

"YOU DID THIS TO US!"

"YOU KILLED US!"

"MURDERER!"

"MURDERER!"

"MURDERER!"

"MURDERER!"

With each telepathic shout, the migraine worsened. Mike was feeling terribly weak; barely able to keep his eyes open and he had felt extremely nauseated. What was happening? Was he having a stroke? Was he...dying? If so, it certainly felt like he was dying.

"WE WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!"

"MURDERER!"

"WE'VE SUFFERED FOR TOO LONG BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"LIAR!"

"SERPENT!"

"CRIMINAL!"

"MURDERER!"

"No!" A new voice was heard; a little girl's voice. The dazed night watchman groaned as he weakly peeled open his droopy eyelids, "Nngh...Alex-?" He slurred, catching a glimpse of another ghost child, a little girl.  
His eyes closed once more. He was only able to listen into their conversation for so long before blacking out due to fatigue.  
"He...do it!"

"LIAR!"

"...ty guard!"

"CRIMINAL!"

"Alex...end-! Our friend!"

"MURDERER!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"HUH-?!"  
Mike's head shot up from it's position on the desk. He was back in his office, sitting in his swivel chair. The fan was humming away loudly as per usual, blowing a steady stream of cool air onto his face.  
A bead of sweat ran down the left side of his head, and the night watchman felt confused. He was just outside in the East Hall, wasn't he? There was no way that whatever he had just experienced was a nightmare. It all felt too real.  
Mike sighed and slowly leaned back to stretch, only to hear the soft cracking of glass shards on the office floor.

He froze, slowly turning to look down at the glass shard-covered floor of the office.  
It was just a dream, right?  
Shaking his head, Mike ran a hand over his pale and tired-looking face. He must have knocked it off of the desk while he was having the nightmare. Reaching for the busted piece of machinery, the young guard winced as a particularly sharp glass corner sliced the palm of his hand, drawing fresh red blood. "Damn." He muttered, placing the broken tablet/laptop back upon his desk before opting to observe the red liquid that trailed from the new wound.

"You're hurt." Chica the Chicken spoke up suddenly.

"SON OF A-"  
Mike jumped out of his seat, backing away when he spotted the only 'female' animatronic leaning in the East Hall's doorway. The six foot chicken animatronic approached the nervous night guard, of whom was clutching his wounded hand close to his chest. "...I'm fine." Mike then replied quietly, averting his gaze from the hen. Chica's violet eyes stared down at the shorter man before slowly reaching out to gently take his slender wrist into her wing-like hand.  
"You're a terrible liar. C'mon, now, let me see." She spoke in a gentle tone. Mike slowly opened his hurt hand, the bleeding had worsened and the red liquid was seeping through his fingers and trailing down his wrist.

"It's nothing much. Just a cut."  
Mike spoke up to break the silence between them as Chica observed his newest injury. Surprisingly, the animatronic's touch was actually very gentle.  
"A deep cut." The animatronic hen added, letting go of the guard's thin, bony wrist. "Stay right here. I know where they keep the First Aid kit. I'll be qui-"

"-That's fine, Chica. Really, you don't have to." Mike quickly spoke up. Believe it or not, he didn't want to be left alone in this horrible office. Not after whatever kind of nightmare he had just experienced.  
Taking a seat, the night watchman assessed the heavily bleeding cut on the palm of his left hand.  
The fresh wound extended from the upper leftmost part of his palm; right underneath the beginning of his left index finger, all the way across and down the center until it tapered off to a thin red line on the lower rightmost part of his palm.

He had to have been dreaming all of...whatever it was. Ghosts don't exist, right?  
Mike exhaled a deep sigh, and Chica took notice. "Is something bothering you, Mike?" She asked, tilting her big, round, yellow head slightly to the left in curiosity as she stared down at Mike, who sat in the creaky, old security office chair.  
The guard leaned back, the back of his head resting on the top of the chain's back piece. "Chica? Would you...think that I'm crazy if I told you that I," he paused, "that I think that I saw a ghost-?"

Chica remained silent for a few brief moments, as if analyzing Mike's question. Not in a computerised way, but rather, in an eerily human manner.  
The animatronic chicken leaned her back in the open doorway, responding almost solemnly,  
"No. I wouldn't think that you're crazy. In fact," she paused, "I think that you're...telling the truth, Mike. You don't seem like a liar, at least, not to me." Chica's violet eyes held an unreadable emotion that Mike just couldn't put his finger on. Was it sadness? Or perhaps longing? How could these animatronics seem so...genuine? Where was this true emotion during the day?

Also, what did she mean by 'I think that you're...telling the truth'?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

((2:15 AM))

"Cap'n Fazbear! Whadd'ya mean ye don't trust the lad? Ye've known 'im long enough by now, don't cha think?" Foxy argued with the large brown bear animatronic. The three were gathered on the stage, conversing with each other.  
Bonnie sat near the front of the stage, fuzzy legs dangling over the side as he fiddled with his guitar prop. The bunny animatronic was only half-listening to what Foxy and Freddy were discussing.  
"I am telling you, Foxy!" Freddy argued, "That 'guard' is not who or what he claims to be. And, I have proof! The proof being; where's Alex? Remember how she used to come here? Well, where is she now? What if He murdered her and disposed of her in some, I dunno, big and empty field out in the middle of nowhere?"

"Ye do have a point thar, Cap'n. But no evidence. Ye can't jus' make the lad walk the plank just 'cuz he think he's nothin' more than a common bilge rat!" Foxy huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Hmm," Freddy hummed, copying the action, tapping his chin in thought. "What if there's something we can do to prove that, this time, it's actually Him?"

"Like a te-"  
Bonnie opened his mouth to speak, though Foxy spoke over him.

"Aye! That be a clever idea, Cap'n! But what should we do? More importantly, how should we go about it?"

"What if we-"  
Bonnie tried speaking again, but was cut off by Freddy this time.

"I'm not so sure, myself. Maybe we should try-"

"GUYS!"  
Bonnie suddenly shouted, silencing the bear and fox. "What if we test the security guard to see if he's the one we're looking for?"

"Test?" Freddy and Foxy asked in perfect sync, exchanging brief side-eye glances at each other. Freddy then spoke up first,  
"What do you mean by 'test'?" Foxy nodded along in agreement, "Aye, lad. I be a wee bit bamboozled meself."  
Bonnie then stood up to meet their heights equally, having set aside his prop guitar.  
"Don't you guys see? If we can test this dude's character, we can determine if he's the one we're looking for."

The bear and fox were silent, and Freddy cocked his head curiously, as did Foxy, but the opposite way.  
"And how do you plan on testing his character?" Freddy asked curiously.  
"Ye may be onto somethin', but the Cap'n has a point, lad. We be in dire need of a clear plan of attack!"

Bonnie chuckled and shook his head, raising a paw-like hand to calm them down. "Questions can come later. Listen, the annual Fazbear Staff Christmas Party is coming up soon, right?" The two others nodded. Though Freddy raised a skeptical brow at the plan the rabbit was concocting, "Yes. And?"  
"And," Bonnie continued, "that means that there's going to be other guests there, too, right?" "Aye," Foxy replied, "but where are ye goin' with all o' this?"

"-And that means that children are going to be there also, right?"  
Bonnie continued. Freddy immediately recognized what Bonnie was playing.  
"Of course! Children! The sons and daughters of the staff members will most likely also be attending!" Freddy exclaimed, blue eyes widening, "Wait, does this mean-?"

"Yup!" Bonnie grinned, proud of his brilliant plan, "A sting operation!"  
"Cap'n, the lad has gone absolutely mad! That'd be a terrible idea!" Foxy's ears pinned back as he shook his head. "It'd be too risky! What if one of the lil' buccaneers gets lured to the back room again? It'd be," he paused, as if reliving past memories, "It'd be THAT all over again!" Foxy whimpered, his metallic body shivering at the thought of another tragedy. Freddy made a mechanical noise like that of a sigh, "Bonnie, I'm afraid that Foxy is right. Such an idea is far too risky."

"W-Wait! Hold on! Guys, we have to do something to see if this guard or whateva' is the real deal! There might be lives at stake, y'know!" The rockin' bunny exclaimed, "We can't just sit around like a bunch of Foxies!"

"Oi! Ye better take that back, landlubber! Er I can make ye by force, if need be." Foxy growled defensively at the rabbit, who only grinned in a smug manner, "Oops. My bad~" Bonnie taunted the fox.  
"Why ye little-!"

"That's enough, you two! There will be no rough housing in this restaurant! Understand?"  
Freddy ordered as he stepped in between the arguing fox and rabbit animatronics before anything could get out of hand. "Bonnie, as much as I don't want to do this, you do make a good point. If we don't expose this 'guard' for who he really is, if he truly is the one, then it's only a matter of time before more innocent lives are lost." Freddy explained, looking at Bonnie. The bunny only wiggled his big, long ears happily. "Gotcha, boss bear!"

"...Don't ever call me that again unless we're onstage. Got it?" Freddy facepalmed, shaking his head stiffly.

"Uh, right. Sorry, Freddy."  
Bonnie chuckled, nervously scratching at the back of his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

((3:30 AM))

"OW! God, son of a-!"  
Mike hissed as Chica had given the bandaging a firm tug, tightening the wrap around his injured hand as she had finished dressing the wound. "Oh, stop being such a big baby, Mike! I know kids that are tougher than you." She teased him with a surprisingly organic laugh. Mike only huffed as he leaned his right cheek into his right hand; elbow supported by the desk top. Though blood seeped through the white cloth, it worked good enough. "Where did you learn first aid?" 

Chica only shrugged in response to his question, "I just watch the day shift employees who have to treat the kids who scrape their knees and such. It isn't too hard, anyway." Mike silently nodded, watching as Chica then stood back, crossing her arms over the bib resting over her chest to admire her handiwork. 

"Ok. Now, flex your fingers." She ordered, seemingly smiling when Mike successfully did so. "Good! It isn't too tight, is it?" She asked. "It's...It's only a little tight. But it's not uncomfortably so." Mike replied, resting his bandaged hand in his lap. Nodding, Chica then turned on her heels to walk out, "Well, I'm gonna go to the kitchen to practice my drumming skills. See ya later, Mi-"

"-Wait!"  
Mike suddenly spoke up, reaching out instinctively to grab Chica's much larger wing-like animatronic hand. The towering yellow bird stopped in her tracks to look down at Mike, who pleaded, "Please, don't leave. I...I hate ghosts." He knew that he sounded mental. After all, he was pleading to his former attempted-murderer to keep him company. Was this Stockholm Syndrome?  
"Please," Mike repeated, mentally cursing himself for displaying such a childish fear,

"I hate ghosts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A/N: The_L0ne_Stag here! I hope you've enjoyed Ch. 6 of FNAF SOTP! I'd argue that this is where the plot really begins to pick up it's pace. Mike hates ghosts and still has no idea what awful secrets Freddy's has swept under the corporate rug. The Christmas Party is swiftly approaching and so is the esteemed holiday itself! 
> 
> Ch. 7 will likely be much shorter than the previous chapters, but fear not! It will be equally as interesting. Stay tuned to uncover the long-hidden secrets of the notorious Freddy Fazbear's Pizza establishment alongside our original security guard and his troublemaking niece!
> 
> Also, Happy Thanksgiving!))


	8. Ch. 7: The Ames Journal

((6:15 AM))

"Uncle Mike!"  
Alexandra exclaimed, bounding up to the adult with her before throwing her arms around him. Her puffy purple sweater was vibrant in the first rays of the morning. The dawn's light was cast onto the snow, making the soft white substance that littered the ground glitter almost magically.   
Mike, who had knelt down to Alex's height, returned his beloved niece's hug.   
Looking up at Stef, who stood behind Alexandra, Mike smiled and stood back up and watched as Alexandra skipped over to the payphone that was positioned near the building to play around with it.

"Stef, I can't thank you enough." Mike stated, reaching into his pocket to withdraw his wallet. "Uh, h-how much?" The young man asked the blonde woman.   
Stef's beautiful chocolate-brown eyes widened when she saw the night watchman pull out his wallet. "Mike, stop. You don't have to pay me!" She laughed, stuffing both of her hands into her jacket pockets. "You helped me set up for the party this weekend.   
Just...think of it as a sort of 'thank you'. All right?"  
She replied, watching as Alexandra poked and prodded at the payphones' buttons while holding the actual phone piece in one of her hands. The loud, steady hum of the dial tone could be heard even from where both adults were standing.

Mike took a long drag on his cigarette before exhaling, making sure to blow away from Stef. Cigarette stench clings to anything it touches and he didn't want to make Stef smell like the little death sticks he loved oh so much.   
The two adults were leaning against the wall, watching Alexandra.   
Stef absentmindedly ran a thin hand through her strawberry blonde locks, catching a glance of Mike's bandaged hand. "Mike! Your hand!" She gasped, gently taking his scrawny wrist into her warm hand to observe the injured limb.   
A light blush dusted the taller man's cheeks before he had cleared his throat, itching the back of his neck awkwardly with his other hand; cigarette gripped in between his thin, light pink lips. "Oh, it's nothing."

"Nothing? What do you mean 'nothing'?! Mike, I can see blood through the cloth!" She replied, shocked that he'd be so nonchalant about this new injury. Mike only grinned, taking the cigarette from his mouth as he held it in between his index and middle fingers of his free hand. "Believe me, Stef. It looks worse than it is.   
See?" He replied, gently clapping his bandaged hand on her shoulder, "Barely any pain!" Mike had demonstrated. Stef only gave him a look, "Mike."   
"What? I already showed you. It doesn't hurt!" Mike reassured Stef with a chuckle.

"Ok, ok. Fine. But can you at *least* tell me what happened to your hand?"

Mike replied with a tease,  
"If I told you, then I'd have to kill you."

Stef punched his shoulder playfully,  
"Whatever, you dork. Come on, pleeease?"

Mike couldn't resist the snort of amusement that came out of his being. "Now you sound like Alex." He smiled, dropping his cigarette onto the sidewalk before stepping on it and extinguishing the death stick. "Listen, I just...I cut myself with a knife." Mike lied.   
"A knife." Stef replied incredulously.

"Yeah, 'a knife'." Mike answered, stuffing both hands into his jacket pockets.  
"Chica went rummaging through the kitchen last night. And when my shift ended, I went in to pick up her mess."

Mike was momentarily confused as to why Stef was cracking up laughing. Then he realized that she doesn't know about how the animatronics come to life at night.   
Makes sense. To any normal person, such a claim sounds unbelievable.  
"Hahaha! Ahh, Mike," Stef finally caught her breath, "I think the loneliness of the graveyard shift is getting to you." She tittered, "I-I mean...Chica? You're blaming Chica? Hah! Good one, Mike." The woman leaned on his shoulder, wiping away the tears that gathered in her eyes.

The man laughed with her, except his laugh sounded way more forced. "Hah! I-I know, right? Uh, heh. Y-You're probably right."

"Ok, but seriously! What actually happened to your hand?"

"I...I might have dropped the security camera tablet. I cut myself picking up the mess."  
Mike replied. Stef stared at the night watchman, "Trevor's gonna kill you. You know that, right? That thing must have cost the company one or two hundred and something dollars."  
"Don't remind me." Mike sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Are you two gonna kiss?"  
Alexandra spoke up, staring up at the two adults, arms crossed over her chest.

"A-Alex!" Mike scolded, taking the girl's hand into his non-injured hand. "Heh! Kids these days. Am I right?" Mike laughed, hoping that Stef would dismiss the blush that was obviously present on his thin, pale face.  
Stef, blushing herself, was rendered speechless by the sudden question.  
"Hey, kiddo, why don't you go to the car and wait for me, ok?" Mike suggested, handing her the key.   
"Ok, Uncle Mike!"  
Alexandra giggled, snatching the key from her uncle's hand before running off to Mike's car.

Turning to Stef, Mike sighed,  
"Well, I should probably get going. She can be pretty impatient." Stef only chuckled in response.   
"Well, all right. I won't keep you waiting. See you tomorrow, Mike!"  
Mike smiled, replying with a curt "See you!" before trekking towards his snow-covered car.

\-------------------------------------------------

On the drive home, Mike had decided to make a quick detour to the Hurricane Branch Public Library. Alexandra gave her uncle a strange look as they pulled into the parking lot, "What are we doing at a library?" Mike looked at his young niece, "Research." Was all Mike had replied as he stepped out of the car. "You're welcome to come inside if you'd like."

The man and child had made their way up to the front entrance, only to be greeted with a sign reading, "Closed. Come back...at 10 AM?!" Mike growled in frustration.   
He needed to find out if Freddy's was or is actually haunted, and quick! There was no way he could just wait this one out. But he didn't plan on throwing his carefully crafted sleep schedule to be thrown out of the window, either. Cupping his hands, Mike peered through the glass door, knocking once...twice...three times-

"May I help you, sir?"  
An old, grouchy male librarian grumbled as he opened the door, running a hand over his face before he gestured to the sign hanging on the door. "Can't you read? We don't open until 10 AM. It's 7:05 right now." He snapped. Mike sighed, "Sir, please! This is urgent." The night watchman pleaded, "Just five minutes-"

"Oh, for the love of-  
Look, boy. I think your fiction cravings can wait. All right? Besides, what is so 'urgent' that you need to be allowed into the library before it even opens?" The librarian huffed, irritated by Mike's persistence.  
"I-I'm not here for books." Mike replied, "I just need to use a computer. A-And I don't have one at home." Mike gave the old librarian a pleading look, "Just five minutes, please!"

"Fine. Five minutes. No more than that, though any less is preferred. All right?"  
He huffed, stepping aside to let Mike and Alexandra through. The balding librarian gave Alexandra a stern glare, "And be QUIET." He added, walking back to the front desk.  
"Thank you." Mike muttered, walking over to the computer desk before taking a seat at one of the Macintosh Classic desktop computers.   
Alexandra, in a bored fashion, kicked her legs as she sat in a free chair next to her uncle. "What are you researching?"  
"Ghosts." Mike replied, fingers flying across the keys, typing in:

'Freddy Fazbear's Pizza/Ghosts'

In the library's digital archives search bar.  
Hitting the 'Enter' key, Mike waited patiently for the search results to appear, anxiously eying the hourglass cursor icon before exhaling a sigh of relief at the four available results.  
Clicking on the first one, Mike read an old report dating back to five years ago. It read as follows:

'March 4th, 1987

Caleb Ames, 23 years old security guard, Found Dead in Local Children's Pizzeria.

Caleb Ewalt Ames, a young man fresh out of college, was working his new job of only one night at local children's pizza establishment Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The young man was a newly-hired employee, after the last security guard had quit due to, and I quote, "sudden health issues", according to a company-issued statement. 

Mr. Ames's body was discovered the following morning by a *janitor, arriving to the scene at 6:15 AM.  
Recovered from the young man's duffel bag of which he had brought with him was a journal containing brief writings of strange observations on account of close friend, Jeremy Fitzgerald, made at Freddy's.

Mr. Ames's journal had been confiscated by local police for further investigative purposes.

(*See Pg.21 for their statements concerning the incident)'

Mike clicked out of that newspaper clipping, deciding to click on another titled: 'The Ames Journal'. Piquing Mike's interest, the guard had clicked on the link.

' "The Ames Journal" (Mar. 13th, 1987)

Discovered by the forensics department, notes from the journal of Caleb Ames have been uncovered.

Note 1: (Feb. 21st)  
Jeremy swore that he had seen a ghost. Like, an actual ghost. Not one, not two, but four! Can you believe this guy? I'll believe him when I see it.

Note 2: (Feb. 25)  
The animatronics had been acting up recently, according to what Jeremy had said. Apparently, he overheard the company's mechanic talking about the stiffened movements of the robots. I guess this was pretty recent, too.

Note 3: (Feb. 26)  
Update! The mechanic had discovered human bones and rotting flesh inside of the Chica animatronic! Gross, right? And here I am thinking it was a dead rat that crawled into her mouth or something. Weirdly, the suits were pristine after the cops were called.  
Well, as 'pristine' as you can get a robot that housed a rotting corpse inside of it.  
I guess a couple of day shift guys had to hose the rest of 'em out before the cops arrived.   
Looks like Chica wasn't the only one!   
This place has had to have been in trouble with the law before if they were trying to hide the evidence.   
And get this! Apparently, the boss man got away with it by claiming that an employee used the robots as 'glorified garbage bins' for their lunch. And get THIS! Apparently, the cops believed him! Crazy!

Note 4: (Feb. 30)  
Jeremy had reported weird events taking place at night over there at Freddy's. Weird things! Floating orbs, disembodied voices, weird dreams afterwards. Maybe it was something in the soda machines? If this is all true, though, I might have to see for myself.

Note 5: (Mar. 1)  
Update! Jeremy had called me up in a complete panic! Poor guy sounded scared out of his mind. Now, Jeremy'

Mike paused, squinting at the final journal entry. It was incomplete! And because it was only a digital image of a photograph, Mike could tell that the rest of the page had been ripped out. "Excuse me-?" Mike spoke up as the grouchy librarian passed him, holding a small stack of books in an arm,

"Hmm? What do you want?"  
The older man asked, wrinkly face scrunched up in a scowl.

"Sorry, I was just wondering why the physical page had been ripped. Uh, do you have the missing piece anywhere in storage?"  
Mike questioned, noting a bored-to-tears Alexandra.  
The librarian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No. Unfortunately."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me, boy. I said I don't have it. And as far as I'm concerned, nobody does. It got lost somehow. Someone ripped it out at some point in time. Nobody knows who did it or where the missing piece went. It's lost." The librarian replied coldly, brushing past Mike before disappearing down the 'nonfiction' aisle. Mike gave the man's back one last, good, Gen-X-style-cynical look. "Tch. Thanks for nothing." Mike mumbled quietly underneath his breath before getting out of the chair and logging out. "Come on, Alex. We're leaving."

And with that, Mike had left the library with his niece in tow. Having made a mental note of Jeremy Fitzgerald's name, the night watchman had made it a point to find this 'Jeremy' guy to see if he knew anything.

That is, if he was even still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A/N: Hey everyone! Guess who's back! Ok, I know I need to address the elephant in the room here; my long absence from posting a new chapter. I'm going to be honest, I was just lazy. I slacked off. I know. And I apologize for that. I went through several revisions for this chapter, and I've decided to settle on making the formerly-nameless guard from the prologue have some sort of plot relevance. I had no idea what he would be named when I first began this fan-fiction, so I had settled on the name "Caleb" for this chapter.
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you're all enjoying this fan-fiction so far! And please, feel free to comment! I need you, the reader's, guidance. You might not realize this, but I am in severe need of your assistance as a fan-fiction reader. It's you who can help me determine how this story's plot plays out! So, please, PLEASE comment! I love feedback! Positive, negative, critical, Etc.!
> 
> Bye, my friends! Good day/night!))


	9. Ch. 8: A Mind At Ease

((7:30 AM))

Mike had trouble going to sleep that day. For what felt like hours on end, the man only tossed and turned in bed, occasionally listening into the VHS episode of 'The Rugrats' that he had put on for Alexandra to keep her occupied while he slept.   
His mind was whirling; an unending, torrential downpour of thoughts and questions bouncing around in his brain. Who was this 'Jeremy Fitzgerald' guy? Who was 'Caleb Ames'? What happened to the rest of the last journal entry? 

Groaning, the young man rolled over to a prone position and buried his face into his sad excuse of a pillow; flat and permanently stained with a strange scent combination of cheap cologne and bodily oils. And, making an educated guess, the night watchman figured that he would end up having yet another freaky nightmare that would either scare him shitless or make him throw up. 

"Tch." Mike tsked, "Man, why does it have to be nightmares? Huh?" He grimaced, rolling over to a supine position, resting an arm over his bare abdomen,  
"Why can't it be something pleasant? Like a field of puppies on skateboards? Or skydiving? Hell, I wouldn't care if it was a wet dream of my shallow high school crush at this point!"  
He hissed with grit teeth, closing his blue eyes.

Chuckles, who was lying beside his master, exhaled a quiet, contented sigh through his nostrils followed by a soft whine. The big mutt closed his big brown eyes as Mike ran a scrawny hand over his head, rubbing behind his floppy ears and massaging the skin underneath his thick coat.

"I don't get it either, boy." Mike replied, smiling when Chuckles began licking his hand, retracting the limb to wipe off on his boxers before tucking the limb underneath his mop of chestnut-brown hair. "You know," Mike began, gaining the labernard's attention,  
"I wonder...what is it you dogs dream about? Bones? Your next walk? Squirrels? Cats, maybe?"

Chuckles simply pawed Mike's side, making the man laugh, and positioning himself to hug the big, goofy dog, Mike had wrapped an arm around Chuckles' thick, furry neck. "I miss hanging out with the best damn dog in the whole world." He commented, unable to resist laughing when Chuckles moved to begin licking Mike's face.  
"Agh-! No! No kisses! Blegh-! Gross!"  
Mike gagged, pulling away from the labernard, reaching down to his bedroom floor to grab a t-shirt to wipe off his face.

"God, Chuckles, your breath smells like death!" Mike sniggered, tossing the used t-shirt aside before lying back down on his back. Chuckles laid his head back down on his front paws with another whine.   
Mike huffed, "Oh, don't give me that! I know you can't help what your breath smells like.   
But, I dunno, maybe try licking your ass a little...less?" He jokingly suggested to his dog. However, Chuckles was, ironically, already preoccupied with licking his rear end at the moment. "Why do I even bother?" Mike sighed with an eye roll, hunkering down to get comfortable once more.

Having finally found a comfortable position on his left side, Mike was drifting off into a light sleep, only to be awakened by the sound of knocking at his door. "Uncle Mike?" Called the little voice of Alexandra before his door had squeaked open just a hair, with Alexandra poking her head through just moments later, "Are you awake?"  
Sighing, Mike answered through a yawn,  
"I am now. What's up?"

"Miss Conway is at the front door." Alexandra replied.

"Stef-?!"  
Mike shot upward into a sitting position. Chuckles lifted his head from his paws, cocking his head curiously.  
"What's she doing over here?" The night watchman asked. Alexandra only shrugged, "I dunno. I didn't open the door yet."

Grabbing the dark grey t-shirt he used to wipe the dog slobber from his face before throwing it on, Mike scanned the room for a pair of pants.  
"Go answer the door. I'll be out in a few seconds." He ordered, watching as his nine year old niece left him alone in his bedroom to let Stef inside.  
Mike had finally settled on his pair of black security guard trousers thrown haphazardly aside on the floor, gathering the article of clothing into his hands, he struggled to put them on in the rushed state he was in.

\-------------------------------------------------

((7:45 AM))

"You can take a seat on the couch, Miss Conway. I'm watching 'The Rugrats'! Wanna watch it with me while my uncle gets dressed?" Alexandra asked, plopping herself down on the couch before patting the empty cushion beside her.   
"Oh, please, just call me 'Stef'." The woman replied, taking a seat next to the child. "I didn't wake your uncle up, did I?" Stef asked, a look of worry crossing her face. "I don't want to keep him up for too long."

Alexandra only giggled, shaking her head, "Trust me. He was barely even asleep to begin with! I could hear him tossing, turning, and talking to Chuckles." She explained.

"Chuckles?"  
Stef asked.

"His dog." Alexandra explained.

"Stef! Uh, hi." Mike spoke up as he walked out of his room, spreading out both arms with an awkward smile, "Welcome to my humble abode." He joked.   
Stef only smiled and shook her head, "It's...comfy, for sure." She replied before clearing her throat. "Uh, you're probably curious to know why I stopped by."  
She offered. Mike shrugged, "I'm more curious to know how you found this place."  
Stef only shrugged in response, "I mean, I can recognize your car from anywhere, Mike. Let's be honest." The two adults laughed at this response, albeit awkwardly.

"Mike, uh, I think that you might have left something in your office. One of the janitors found it, and it has your name on it." Stef replied, holding out a puffy black jacket. "Trevor was getting tired of looking at it lying in the lost and found bin in his office. He meant to give it to you sooner, but, you know Trevor. He's a bit of a scatterbrain. Though he wouldn't ever admit to that. So, here." She handed Mike the jacket that rested in her lap.

"All right, thanks." Mike replied, taking the jacket into his arms. "Is this the only reason why you came here?" He asked. Stef only shrugged with a giggle, and Mike found himself blushing. 

'God, she's adorable!' Mike thought silently.  
"If I'm being honest, I also just wanted to see you again." Stef added, approaching Mike with a smile. "You're cute when you blush. You know that, Mike?"  
Mike could have sworn that his face was as red as a tomato with how hot it felt. Was it him? Or was it just his house?

"A-Are you always this upfront with people?" Mike questioned, heart racing.

"What do you mean 'upfront'? I'm just saying." Stef laughed. Alexandra rolled her eyes, "Gross." She muttered, walking back into the spare bedroom.   
Upon hearing this, Stef couldn't resist the snort of amusement that left her mouth. "I can tell someone isn't much of a Disney princess fan." She commented, earning herself a smirk from Mike. "Yeah. Her mom and dad get all lovey-dovey in front of her sometimes. She isn't much into all that kissy-kissy crap."

"I'm sorry, 'kissy-kissy crap'? And what's that supposed to mean? We're not being 'kissy-kissy'!" Stef retorted, cracking up alongside Mike.   
"Well, I dunno, Stef, you commenting on my uncontrollable blushing seemed kind of-"  
"-Mike. Stop it." Stef interrupted, catching her breath as both she and Mike took a seat on the couch.  
"You know, your niece reminds me of my son, Levi."

"Wait, son-?! Stef! Does that mean-?"  
Mike went wide-eyed in shock. Stef wasn't cheating on some poor sap with HIM, was she?!

"Mike, relax. I'm...I'm not married. Well, not anymore." Stef replied. Mike had paused the movie playing on his TV set. The young night watchman cleared his throat, "You...You're divorced-?" He asked, "I-I don't mean to pry, or-or anything! I swear! I'm just...I didn't...you didn't seem like you were-"

"-Once upon a time, yeah. I was married. Believe it or not, I was actually married to my middle school sweetheart." Stef spoke up, averting her gaze from Mike as she wrung her hands, adding, "And, uh, don't apologize. I don't mean to be spilling all of this onto you. If anything, I'm the one who should be apologizing."

"O-Oh. It's no problem. I promise."  
Mike replied awkwardly. He honestly wasn't sure how he should go about comforting Stef. "Uh, you don't mind if I ask what happened to...your former husband, do you? It's fine if you don't want to answer that, if you want."

Stef sighed, tears welling in her eyes. "He...He died. Two years ago. Levi had only turned ten when the results came in. Stage three brain cancer. It was Glioblastoma."   
She replied, wiping away the tears that fell, tracing thin, clear lines down her cheeks.   
Mike gave her a sympathetic look, "Oh, geez. I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. Damn it! I shouldn't have asked." He sighed, looking away from a crying Stef, feeling a stab of guilt. Stef only shook her head once more,  
"Don't be sorry, Mike. You didn't mean any harm by it." She sniffled.

The night watchman grimaced, glancing over at a slouching Stef.  
The waitress, who was busy wiping away her tears, was taken aback when a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around her body.  
"M-Mike?" She asked softly.

"Is there anything I can get you? Uh, maybe some water? I don't have a lot to offer, sadly." Mike offered, resting his chin on top of her head. Stef returned the gesture, burying her face into the crook of his neck.   
"Oh, I'm fine. I have to be leaving now, anyway." She sniffled, wiping away her tears using the palms of her hands. "I look like a wreck. Don't I?" She sighed.   
Mike only gave her a smile followed by a shrug, "Nah. You're good. Would you like a tissue?" He asked. Stef only nodded in reply. Having reached across the coffee table, grabbing a box of tissues, he offered the whole thing to her.

Upon taking a couple, Stef dabbed at her eyes with the tissues.  
Mike awkwardly ran a hand down the back of his neck, "I'm going to be honest, I don't know how to comfort other people. Well, adults." He sighed, "Ok, I don't know how to comfort adult women, specifically." He admitted truthfully. Stef only offered a weak laugh in response, "Haha! Well, you comforted me pretty well."

"Oh? Uh, cool. Heh." Mike chuckled in response. Getting up, Stef inhaled and exhaled deeply, calming her nerves. "Again, I'm sorry for turning this into a therapy session."   
She smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck out of nervous habit.  
Standing up, Stef smiled. "Well, I guess I should get going. Trevor might get bent out of shape if I'm late." Having turned, the woman took a few steps towards the door, but paused when Mike had suddenly called out to her.  
"Wait! Stef, I have a question to ask you before you go."

"Oh? Like what?" Stef inquired curiously.

"You wouldn't happen to know of a man named 'Jeremy Fitzgerald', would you?"  
The security guard asked the waitress. The brunette ran a hand through his hair, "It's...It's important that I find him. It's a bit of a long story." He added, placing a hand on his hip. Stef placed a hand to her chin in thought, "Wait, you don't mean the guy from-"

"-The Ames Journal?"  
Mike finished for her.

Stef narrowed her eyes at Mike,  
"Mike, where did you find out about The Ames Journal? That tragedy from five years ago should stay in the past-"

"-Please! Stef," Mike moved a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, "look, I told you, it's a long story. And...And I have my reasons to be asking around for more information. I just need the address of a Mr. Fitzgerald." He interrupted the young woman, who only heaved a quiet sigh in return. "3235 west Elk street." Stef replied, adding,  
"Jeremy was a family friend of mine. He lives on the outskirts of town, last time I checked.   
And, uh, that's about all that I know. I haven't heard anything from him since the incident."   
She explained, shaking her head with a smile, "Then again, he was always such an introvert; quiet, kept to himself, and I guess he was really into the 'horror' genre. Apparently, he's also really smart, so, I'm sure that he could help you out with...well, whatever it is that you need concerning him."

"Thanks, Stef. Seriously, I really appreciate your help." Mike thanked her, embracing the woman one last time; grinning ear to ear. Finally! He was one step closer to uncovering Freddy's darkest secret.   
Upon releasing the young woman from his embrace, Stef and Mike had bid each other farewell, and Mike had watched as the woman pulled out of his driveway and drove off to Freddy's once again.   
Glancing at the little shred of paper that Stef had given him containing Jeremy Fitzgerald's address scrawled out upon it, Mike had flopped down in one of the little dining room table chairs, staring blankly at the address.

"3235 W. Elk St., Hurricane, UT."  
Mike uttered quietly under his breath, placing the note in his wallet that was laid out on the table before dragging himself back to bed. Thankfully, Mike had fallen asleep quickly thanks to a mind that was now at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A/N: Hello everyone! I am currently on Christmas Vacation at Tugaloo State Park, Georgia, as of the time I've posted this chapter, and I've got to say that this place is BREATHTAKING! Seriously, this is one of the most beautiful state parks that I've ever been to!
> 
> Anyway, this chapter wasn't as long as prior chapters, and for that, I do apologize. This was, admittedly, a sort of 'filler' chapter meant to develop characters like Mike, Alexandra, and Stef (mostly Stef) a little better since I felt that, personally, Stef (in particular) was lacking a bit in that department. So, I hope you enjoyed the pre-staff Christmas party character development/fluff!))


	10. Ch. 9: Whatever It Takes

((11:25 PM))

A half-awake-half-asleep Mike Schmidt bit down on the pathetic piece of burnt toast slathered messily with peanut butter in his hand. As he chewed, the young man stared intently at that little shred of parchment that contained the address of Jeremy Fitzgerald, planning to find the man upon finishing tonight's shift.   
Alexandra, meanwhile, was fast asleep, or so Mike had thought. The little girl in question had opened the door to the guest bedroom, walking out clutching her little Chica plush to her chest. "Uncle Mike?"

Tearing his eyes away from the paper, Mike looked towards the sleepy child, of whom had obviously dragged herself out of bed.  
The child used the back of her free hand to rub the sleep from her eyes, groaning tiredly as she did so.  
Setting the piece of toast aside, shoving the little shred of paper into his pocket, Mike had knelt down in front of Alexandra; a smile on his face. "And just what are you doing up, kiddo?" He questioned, withholding an amused snicker as Alexandra yawned tiredly,  
"...I had a bad dream." She replied, blinking a pair of tired green eyes at her uncle.

"Mmhmm, and what's the real reason?"  
Mike replied.

Alexandra huffed, looking towards Mike with pleading eyes, "I want to go with you."

"To Freddy's?"

"Where else?"

Mike groaned, "Alexandra, we've talked about this. You're not allowed to come with me on my shift."

"But why? And don't say 'It's dangerous'! You saw how Freddy and his friends treated us. They're not gonna hurt either of us, Uncle Mike!" Alexandra replied, plopping herself down on the couch with a pout. "It's not fair."  
She mumbled in a grouchy manner. Mike resisted the urge to roll his eyes,  
"Alex, come on. That decision wasn't made up by me. My boss threw a fit when he saw you with me inside of the building. Of course I saw how they treated us, well, you, at least. I know that they wouldn't hurt you, but-"

"-But what? Uncle Mikey, pleeeease?"  
Alexandra pleaded, giving Mike her best sad puppy eyes. Unfortunately for her, it had no effect. Mike shook his head, "No can do, kiddo. Sorry."

Alexandra sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fiiine." She replied, dropping the futile attempts at swaying her uncle's decision as she looked away from Mike. "Have fun, I guess."

"Hey, Alex, come on. Don't pout." Mike smiled, picking her up before slinging the girl over his shoulder, laughing when Alexandra squealed in surprise. "Hey! Put me down, Uncle Mike! Hahaha!" The girl giggled, trying her best to squirm out of Mike's grasp as he carried her back to the spare bedroom in which she was using.  
Lying the girl down, Mike had tucked little Alexandra back into bed.  
"All right, kiddo. I gotta leave now. Uh, remember to take Chuckles outside to use the bathroom, there's food in the pantry, and you're welcome to watch a movie. And NO JERRY SPRINGER!" He quickly added, ruffling her hair before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, Al. Sweet dreams."  
Mike whispered.

Alexandra smiled at Mike, going to respond, but paused. "Oh, wait! Don't leave yet!" The little girl spoke up, kicking the covers off of herself before getting out of bed and making her way over to her suitcase where she dug through it, pulling out a coloring book and a box of crayons. "Can you please give these to Bonnie?" Alexandra pleaded, pushing the objects into the confused security guard's hands.

"Uh...a coloring book and...crayons? What for?" Mike asked.

Alexandra shrugged, "Bonnie said that he wanted to try coloring, but that there weren't any coloring books at Freddy's." She replied. Mike gave his niece a doubtful look, "Did Bonnie really ask for that?" He questioned. Alexandra nodded. "Yup. I promised him that I'd give him a coloring book and some crayons to practice with. He says he gets bored at night sometimes." The little girl explained.

Mike gave the girl a surprised look,  
"Is that so?" He asked, finding it hard to believe that Bonnie could get bored. I mean, the bunny was just a robot. An animatronic meant to only mimic something that was alive. 

Were the Fazbear animatronics really this advanced? How did some bootleg pizza place manage to nab highly intelligent robots with military-grade technology? Or...was it something else? Mike shook his head.  
He always found it hard to believe in the concept of ghosts. The spirits of dead people lingering on Earth because they had unfinished business sounded like some cheap Hollywood storyline. Of course, the young night watchman felt unsettled by the idea of ghosts, sure, but did he actually believe in such a thing? No! Of course not.

Ghosts are a childhood fear; the reason why young children were scared of the dark, the reason why teenagers screamed when they were watching a horror movie in the theaters, and something that sensible adults just didn't believe in.

Mike refused to subscribe to the idea that the animatronics were possessed by ghosts. I mean, what a crackpot theory! Alexandra nodded, "Uh-huh! It's true! He told me himself." She answered earnestly.  
"All right," Mike replied, "I'll bring these to Bonnie. And I'll tell him it's from you."

"Do you pinkie swear?"

"I pinkie swear."

\-------------------------------------------------

((12:10 AM))

Mike was sitting in his stuffy little office, flipping through the coloring book that Alexandra had given him for Bonnie. A puppy chasing a butterfly, a couple of birds fluttering through the sky, a kitten curled up in a basket; eyes closed and it's head resting on it's two front paws.

When all of a sudden…

"BOO!"

"AAAGHHH!!" Mike screamed, jumping out of his chair, stumbling back a couple of paces, before falling onto his rear with an audible "Thud", the coloring book landing beside him. Mischievous laughter filled the air moments later, and Mike looked up at the purple-blue animatronic rabbit leaning on the right doorway. "Hehehehahaha! I got you good!" Bonnie cackled, walking over to Mike before holding out a large bluish-purple paw to Mike,  
"Need some help?"

Shakily grabbing onto Bonnie's cartoonishly big paw, his heart rate increased when the four-fingered paw enclosed around his much more frail hand. Mike was then easily pulled back into a standing position, and Bonnie let go of the jumpy security guard.  
Having spotted the coloring book lying on the ground, Bonnie knelt down and picked it up using both paws, tilting his head. The servos in his neck area stirred quietly from the motion, and the seemingly sentient robot then turned to look back at Mike. "Is this yours?"

"Actually," Mike replied, "that's for you. It's an early Christmas present from Alexandra."

"Alexandra?! Mike! Where is she?! Is she ok? Is she hurt?!" Bonnie asked, jumping from foot to foot with anxiety. Mike dismissively waved a hand, "Nah, she's fine. I'm just not allowed to bring her into work anymore. Boss's orders." He replied, shrugging. Bonnie's shoulders slumped,  
"Aww, c'mon, man! That's not cool!" The robotic bunny whined, seemingly pouting.

Mike resisted the urge to chuckle. Bonnie was acting so childlike! "Oh!" Mike suddenly exclaimed, reaching into his pants pocket, withdrawing the little box of crayons before offering them to Bonnie.  
"Here. These are also from Alexandra."

"Gee, Mike! Thanks!" Bonnie giggled, excitedly snatching the box of crayons out of the man's hand, eying the various colors in an innocent sort of awe. "Alex's super rad! She remembered! She actually remembered!" He cheered happily. Crossing his arms, Mike couldn't help but to genuinely smile at Bonnie's reaction.

It was...strangely adorable.

"Yarrg! What be all th'a commotion for, lad?!"  
Called the voice of a certain grumpy pirate fox, who had poked his head inside of the office. "Can I not arrange me cove in peace an' quiet?"

"Foxy! Foxy, look! Look at what Alex got for me for Christmas!"  
Bonnie exclaimed, showing off the mundane little gift Alexandra had given him. The red pirate fox tilted his head, his golden fangs glinting under the office's poor-quality lighting.  
"Well shiver me timbers! That be a colorin' book, yeah?"

"Uh-huh! And crayons!"  
Bonnie added.

"Well sink me! Crayons, too?!"  
The robotic fox exclaimed in surprise, giving a booming, hearty laugh afterwards.  
Turning to look at Mike, the pirate fox gave him what the young man would assume to be an attempted smile, "Well, thank ye, Cap'n Mike." The fox laughed. Mike scratched the back of his neck with a soft chuckle, "It's no problem. Actually, it's Alexandra you guys should be thanking."  
Foxy tilted his head, the servos in his neck whirring, "Well then, tell 'er we send 'er our thanks." Mike smiled and shook his head before saluting the pirate fox with an "Aye, captain."

"That's the spirit, boy!"

Mike smiled as he watched the rabbit and fox animatronics walk away back into the Dining Area, presumably where Freddy and Chica were located.   
The young man turned on his heels to walk back to his seat. He had written Trevor an apologetic note and left the shattered security monitor in his office, praying that he wouldn't be fired. Plopping himself down into his chair, Mike leaned back with both arms resting behind his head and both feet propped up on top of his desk as the little fan blew out a weak stream of room-temperature air onto him, the wind being produced just barely reaching his face. 

It was 12:20 AM now, and Mike had no monitor to flick through. No crossword puzzles to play.   
He had a phone in his office…but he wasn't brave enough to prank call any of the other local businesses. He could try to call his sister? Maybe even Stef?  
'No,' he scolded himself, 'neither would be up this late...or this early…?' He shook his head, shifting lightly in his seat. The soft whirring of the fan combined with the eerie buzz of the security office's lone lightbulb made the young security officer yawn. He wasn't tired, just bored. And with nothing else to do, he simply made himself comfortable and fell asleep, knowing full well the animatronics wouldn't hurt their friend's uncle.

\-------------------------------------------------

Mike awakened in a dark room. Well, dimly-lit is a bit more accurate. The room itself wasn't completely pitch black by any stretch of the word.   
The room was lit by a single incandescent light bulb that occasionally flickered. The room itself was relatively empty save for a shelf that was occupied by spare animatronic parts and boxes of extra endoskeleton pieces. Servos, joints, hands, fingers, eyeballs of various colors...it all reminded him vaguely of a mad scientist's lab filled with harvested organs and other creepy human limbs. However, the other thing, well, things that had caught Mike's attention were the four mascot suits that sat, seemingly empty, slumped against the wall directly in front of him.

Upon closer inspection, though, the security guard could tell with great certainty that the four suits were, in fact, not empty. Hints of mucous caked the rims of the empty animatronics' eye sockets. Blood splotches appeared on the torsos, chests, and sides of the four suits. The empty Bonnie suit twitched feebly, as if it were a living, breathing organism that was in the process of dying. A strained, pained wheezing noise emitted from the seemingly empty suit, followed by a wet, throaty cough.

'There's...something in that suit-!'

Mike concluded, though watched with intrigue as the suit slowly lifted a shaking, robotic arm up to grab it's face, "cccaaaa….nt….b...ree…aaaaggghh…"  
The suit moaned as lifted it's other arm, using the other paw-like hand to claw at it's lower jaw. A sickening squelching sound was made as it moved. Upon watching for a few moments as the thing struggled, Mike was frozen in place, unable to move.  
"CccaaaaaaaaAAAAAaaaa…...nth…"  
The suit wheezed as it clawed at the lower jaw piece of the suit. Upon pulling it down, Mike trembled in fear with wide eyes at the bits of human skull he could see from within the Bonnie suit's mouth.

\-------------------------------------------------

"MIKE!"

"-WHAT HAPPENED?!"

Mike shot up in his security office chair, whipping around wildly only to come face-to-face with a worried Stef. The woman had her outstretched hand poised in the air, as she was reaching out to touch him. "Mike," she began more calmly, "It's 6:58 AM. Your shift's over." She explained, her arm dropping back down to her side. Sitting up with a stretch, Mike covered his mouth as he yawned. "Mmm...Trevor didn't see the note and the security tablet yet, did he?"

"You just missed his greatest fit yet."  
She chuckled, placing a hand on her cocked hip. "Oh, great. I'm being fired for sure." Mike groaned, shaking his head as he then stood up with yet another stretch. Stef shrugged, "Well, you ARE the longest-lasting security guard he's ever employed. You even apparently lasted longer than the guys with real security credentials.   
I doubt he'd fire you, even if he does blow a gasket over the busted tablet." She answered honestly, only to cross both arms over her chest as she giggled, "Just...don't ever let him catch you sleeping on the job. Then, he MIGHT fire you. I remember when he caught Joey snoozing in the Parts and Service room, oh, you should have seen how red his face was!" She smiled. Mike ran a shaky hand through his hair, and the corners of Stef's smile then creased into a frown. "Mike, I...I want to know what you were dreaming about. You seemed, well, I don't know...scared? Well, at least, you seemed more scared when I woke you up. Is everything all right?"

"Uh, y-yeah! Everything's fine, Stef. In fact, I couldn't feel any better than I do right now."  
Mike replied, smiling with the hopes of reassuring her. Stay, however, knew better than to believe him. "Mike, I can tell you're lying. It was a nightmare, wasn't it?"  
Mike dropped the facade and simply plopped himself back into his chair once more.  
"Fine. You caught me." He admitted. Stef shook her head, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Mike." She explained, adding, "I'm not making you-"

"-It was about the five missing kids."  
Mike admitted, clenching a fist as he recalled the unsettling details from the depths of his memory. "Well, it was only four of the five...there were four empty suits...blood and mucous…" he looked up at Stef, "I saw a skull behind the head piece." Stef was horrified, looking sick to her stomach.   
"That's horrible! Mike, why would you ever dream of something like that?" Her eyes widened upon jumping to a conclusion, "There's no way…"  
"-It wasn't me, Stef. There's no way it could have been me." Mike quickly spoke up. Stef visibly relaxed. She believed it to be some form of guilt manifesting itself in the form of a gruesome nightmare. The woman sighed, shaking her head, "I didn't think it was you, Mike. There's no way it could have been you." She sighed.  
"Listen," Mike stood up once again, placing both of his hands firmly on Stef's respective shoulders, "Stef, I've been having nightmares for a couple of months now. And I have a theory that could explain why. Granted, it's a bit of a stretch but, Stef…I think this place is haunted."

"Haunted?"  
Stef repeated.

"Yes. Haunted. By the ghosts of the five kids."  
Mike explained.

"Mike…? Ghosts...they don't exist. Right?"  
Stef replied, raising a curious brow at the taller man. Mike only returned her question with a shrug, "As far as I know, no. They don't. But still, I just have this feeling...call it a gut feeling, that it's these childrens' ghosts that are causing my nightmares."

"Can ghosts even do that?"  
Stef questioned, "I mean, I know they can walk through walls and stuff, but...making people have nightmares? Mike, come on, I think this job is getting to your head." The woman shook off Mike's claims of the existence of ghosts in the restaurant with a nervous laugh.  
"Stef, I'm telling you! Please, you've got to believe me!" Mike pleaded. Stef only gave the man a questioning look, "All right. Fine. I'll humor you. But I need more tangible proof than just your weird month-long spree of job-related nightmares. Ok?"

"Sure. Look, just...meet me here the night after the Christmas party or something. I have more than enough proof." Mike pleaded. Stef smiled in response, "Whatever, you weirdo." She teased him before slinging her jacket over her shoulder. "Well, I guess I'll see you one night next week? The staff Christmas party is coming up, so-"  
"-How does Tuesday night sound?" Mike asked.  
"Deal. See you then, Mike." She smiled, waving him goodbye as she walked out of the security office to get ready for the long day of waiting tables ahead of her.

\-------------------------------------------------

((7:15 AM))

"You sure this is the place?" Mike asked his youthful passenger. Alexandra nodded,  
"3235 west Elk Street." The girl repeated.  
Mike gazed out of the driver's side window at the surprisingly quaint little house with a plum tree growing out in the front yard. 'This is the place, then.' He thought silently to himself. The house and front yard were kept surprisingly clean. Not a single rotten fruit laid at the base of the lone plum tree in the front yard.   
The house itself was made of red brick with a pale grey concrete driveway leading up to a closed dark grey garage door. A second concrete path diverged from the driveway and led to a little stairway of only two concrete steps which led to the front door. The lush green grass was neatly trimmed with a soft and well cared-for appearance, and not a single leaf was anywhere in sight. 'Guy must have a lot of time on his hands.' Mike concluded, pulling up into the driveway before parking and shutting his car off.

Alexandra looked over to her uncle, "Can I get out?" Mike shook his head, "It's probably best you stay in here. It's important that I talk to this guy."  
"But why?" Alexandra asked, tilting her head curiously. Mike sighed, "Reasons."   
He replied, stepping out of the car before closing the door, making his way up to the front door. Mike stood at the front door, reaching out and pressing the doorbell button. He heard the ding from inside, and waited a few short moments. Dissatisfied with no response, Mike pressed it again, only to receive the same response.  
Rapping a fist on the door, Mike called out for Jeremy.   
"Uh, is this the home of a Mister Fitzgerald?"

"Go away!"

Called a man's voice from somewhere inside.

"Please? If this is the house of a Mister Fitzgerald-"

"-Go AWAY!"

The man from inside interrupted Mike.

"You've got the wrong address!"

He added. Mike only muttered a few swears underneath his breath, "Sir, if this is the wrong address, could you please just...point me in the right direction, at least?" The young security officer called back, hearing heavy footsteps approaching, Mike took a couple steps back as the front door squeaked as it was opened just the tiniest bit. Only a dark green eye met Mike's blue eyes.

"What are ya? Deaf? Didn't you hear me say GO. AWAY?"

The man rudely spoke, glaring at Mike,  
"I'm not interested in your lighthouse booklets nor am I interested in whether or not I'm going to Heaven. Just go back to your car and kindly fuck off."

"-Th-That's not why I'm here-"  
Mike went to respond, only to have the door shut back in his face, followed by the clicking of the deadbolt lock.  
"Whatever. Just get off my property already, you stupid kid!"

"Hey! I'm 27!"  
Mike shot back.

"And I'm 57. What do you want? A trophy? A cold one? Some smokes? What?!"  
The rude man called back to Mike from inside.   
The sound of footsteps were heard once more, and Mike sighed in defeat, sitting down on the topmost of the two little steps leading up to the front door. The young man watched as his niece got out of the car and walked up to the front door. "It's no use, Alex. I think Stef gave us the wrong address."

"I don't think Miss Conway had the wrong address, I just think the grumpy guy doesn't want to talk to you." She stated before walking past her uncle, facing the door.  
Mike's grimace only deepened, "C'mon, Al. Leave him be. We don't need him anyway. Let's just go-"

"KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!"  
Alexandra knocked on the door three times in a row before calling out,  
"Hey! Grumpy old guy! Open the door! My uncle needs to talk to you!"

"-Alex!" Mike hissed, gritting his teeth. He really didn't feel like having the cops called on him today.

"Go away, brat! I'm not interested in your Girl Scout cookies!"  
Replied the man from inside,  
"I'm not coming out, and that's final!"

"-But my uncle NEEDS to talk to you about some book...some sort of diary or journal or someth-"

The front door unlocked with a soft 'click' before it slowly freaked open, the eyeball from before glaring down towards the young child.  
"...Come again?"

"The Ames Journal."  
Mike spoke up, standing back up to face the barely opened door. He took a few steps closer.  
"I...I need to find the Ames Journal. For personal reasons. Please, sir, if you really are Jeremy Fitzgerald-"

Mike's eyes widened in fear when a hand suddenly shot out from between the door and doorway, grabbing the security guard by the collar of his shirt before yanking him forward, slamming his face on the door frame.

"- Just who the Hell are you and how the Hell do you know about The Ames Journal?! That's been a cold case going on five years now. And this is the first time I've ever seen your scrawny little ass around this hick town." The man from behind the door hissed; spittle splashing onto Mike's right cheek. The younger man only swallowed,  
"I-I-I know a friend of yours, uh, S-Stef Conway! She...She said you were a f-family friend. You know her-?"

"... … …"  
The man inside the house let go of Mike, slamming the door in Mike's face, locking it once more.  
"Go away, kid! I don't want nothing to do with that journal!"

"Please!"  
Mike pleaded once more, pounding on the door with a fist, "I need to know if the rumors are true! I-If Freddy's really is haunted by the souls of those five kids!"

"GO AWAY, NOW!"  
Yelled the angry voice of the man from inside. Mike, although fed up, only replied with a simple response, "Look, I have a theory. What if those animatronics have the souls of those kids residing within them?   
Controlling their every movement by nightfall? I mean, think about it! What if they've only been killing night guards for all of these years because they've forgotten the face of their killer? And by killing those unfortunate men and women in my position-"

The door unlocked and freaked open just a hair once more.  
"Idiot."

"Come again?"

"You just don't understand. Do you?"

"Understand...what?" Mike asked, raising a brow as he leaned closer to the door.

"Look, kid, anyone who gets involved with that journal, in any way, shape, or form, will die." The man replied grimly. Mike cocked his head, "And just how do you know that?"

"What do you think?"  
The man replied knowingly, "I'm Jeremy Fitzgerald. And I used to be the night watchman of that Hellhole."  
Slowly pushing the rest of the door open to reveal a tall, slightly overweight older man with shaggy, though slightly graying blonde hair.   
He was of a white complexion with dark green eyes. He wore a simple dark grey t-shirt and black shorts. Though the most defining physical trait of the man was the gnarly, dark red scar that permanently scarred his forehead leading all the way up past his hairline. It left his left brow disfigured and asymmetrical, as it was slightly lower than his right. A bald spot lay on the front left of his head, just above his forehead, where the rest of the scar ended.

"Dear God! What happened to your-?!"  
Mike exclaimed, staring at the grotesque old wound in shock.  
Jeremy spoke up,  
"The Bite of '87. That's what."

"The...The Bite...as in THE Bite? Of 1987?"  
Mike's jaw dropped, "Wait, let me get this straight, YOU were the victim of that tragedy? Not a kid?"

"That was the Bite of 1983. It was shocking, but not as famous as the one that would happen four years later." Jeremy explained,  
"After all, animatronics aren't supposed to move at night."

"Wait, an ANIMATRONIC did this to you?!"  
Mike recoiled in horror. He could have easily been in the same place as this Jeremy guy!   
Looking back, Mike realized he should have been a bit more careful around those robots.   
He probably shouldn't have ever let them get as close to him as he already allowed them to.   
"Yeah. One of the plastic bastards took a sizable chunk of my brain out." Jeremy replied. Mike paled, feeling nauseous all of a sudden.

"Oi. You puke on my doorstep, you're cleaning it up." Jeremy threatened, raising a brow down at Alexandra,  
"And what's with the Girl Scout?"

"My name is Alex. And I'm not a Girl Scout!" Alexandra huffed, puffing out her cheeks as she pouted, "Do I look like I sell cookies?"

"Yes. Very much so."

"Ugh. Rude!"

"Alex? What is that short for?"

"Her name is Alexandra, Alex for short. And I'm Mike. Mike Schmidt."  
Mike replied, holding out a friendly hand to shake.

Jeremy only slapped it away.  
"I don't do any of that nice-guy shit, Mike. Just an FYI." The man then stepped aside, "Now, are you and the brat coming inside or not? I guess I should apologize for my jackassery somehow. You want...uh, coffee or some shit?"

"Duly noted."  
Mike muttered, entering the man's house along with Alexandra,  
"And...yes, please. I'll, uh, just take some plain black."

\-------------------------------------------------

"So," Jeremy began, "let me get your crackpot theory right. You honestly believe that these robots are possessed by the souls of a bunch of dead brats who are seeking vengeance on their killer, of whom looks like a security guard-"

"-Or other adult."

"...or other adult, but because they've been dead for a while, they are slowly beginning to forget the details of their murderer? So they've resorted to just killing anyone with a certain type of uniform or anyone who may look like an adult in hopes of killing the 'right' guy in order to free themselves?"  
Jeremy reasoned with a dubious look on his face.   
Mike nodded hopefully,   
"Exactly! Ghosts are just the souls of the undead who just so happen to have unfinished business, right? That would explain the suit-stuffings. They murdered those innocent security guards the same way they had been killed, not because they see us as 'suit-less endoskeletons' in need of a good stuffing." Mike reasoned with the older man.  
"If I can just free the trapped spirits, I don't have to worry about losing my job because of these haunted furry fu-" Mike paused, clearing his throat when he caught Alexandra's look from out of his peripheral vision, "furry...fun-loving robots." He awkwardly finished.

"Sooo...what? Are you implying that you're going to murder the murderer to free the vengeful spirits of a bunch of dead eight year olds?"  
Jeremy questioned.

"No! No, no, no! Who said anything about murder?"

"...A Ouija board?" Jeremy asked, giving Mike a look.

"No. Look, first off, I just need to get The Ames Journal to see if my theory is proven right."  
Mike replied,  
"And to do that, I'll be needing your help. I'd assume you have this thing, right? Stef said that you know more about this thing than anybody. So, would you mind handing it over?"

"Oh! You think I have this thing? BAHAHAHAHAAH! Good one, Mikey, good one! No, I don't have it.   
Besides, it's pretty bold of you to assume that I'm even going to help you." Jeremy cackled. Alexandra sipped at the red can of Coke in her hands. The young girl resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This guy was annoying!

Mike's hope shattered at that very moment. At this point, he didn't mind if Jeremy would help him or not.  
"You...don't have the journal?"

"Nope! That old thing is kept at the local police station, tucked away in some cardboard box in their storage rooms along with all the other cold cases those bastards never bothered solving." Jeremy huffed with a roll of his eyes before getting up from the table, over to his medicine cabinet where he opened it up and grabbed a yellow-orange bottle of pills.  
Twisting the lid, Jeremy shook one out into his hand and popped it into his mouth, chasing it down with some room temperature water. He took notice of the guest watching him from over his shoulder,

"Antipsychotics."  
Jeremy spoke up, running a hand over the scarred side of his face.  
"See, ever since that mangled hunk of plastic junk took a nice big bite out of my face, I haven't been the same ever since."   
He sighed, looking down at the pill bottle with a sad chuckle,  
"The doc said it was a miracle I hadn't become a vegetable after a brain injury as traumatic as this." He gestured to his scarred forehead and bald patch over the left side of his forehead.  
"It was a miracle I had survived. Hell, it's a miracle that the surgery could save whatever was left of my brain." He shook his head,  
"I'll be on these stupid pills for the rest of my damned life, though."

Mike looked away, "I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize for nothing, you hear? You weren't the one who did this to me."  
Jeremy replied, watching as Mike sipped his black coffee.   
Mike tucked a lock of stray chestnut brown hair behind an ear. He decided to change the topic.  
"The journal...the police have it?"  
"Yup. It's their property, now." Jeremy shrugged, "Sorry, Mike. But as far as I'm concerned, it's the end of the line."

Mike tightened his grip on the mug.  
"I need to get it."

"Tch. Just waltz on in there and ask really nicely. I'm sure they'll hand it over."  
Jeremy replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.  
Mike rolled his eyes, "Har, har. Funny."  
"Seriously though. I need to get this journal. It could be the only way to end the curse of Freddy's once and for all."

"And just how far are you willing to go in order to prove this fantastical theory of yours?" Jeremy asked, sipping more of his water.

Mike gave the older man a stern look,  
"I'll do whatever it takes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back from my miniature hiatus! I've been busy this last month with college applications, preparing for a massive yard sale, and just trying to figure out where I should take this fan-fiction. Luckily, I've got my ducks in a row! I've made some revisions to the plot, characters, etc. Hopefully, you will enjoy what I've got in store for all of you wonderful readers. The employee Christmas Party is nearing for the human staff at Freddy's, and Mike has made a begrudging new friend! How will Mike and Jeremy find The Ames Journal if it's in police custody? Find out the next chapter!))


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